Beating Out of Focus
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: The unfortunate truth is that this feeling, this painfully deep ache of loneliness and loss, lies at the crux of Kara's existence, the very core of her being. Kara loathes to say goodbye, loathes to be alone, remembers it from when she was small.
1. Prologue: Saying Goodbye

_Author's Note:_ I'm going to give this threesome a shot, because there isn't nearly enough of it. Let me know what you think. First chapter is a prologue - dialogue to follow.

* * *

It dawns harmlessly enough – the affair – though Kara isn't exactly comfortable with the word choice.

 _Affair._ Kara cringes visibly just thinking it. The word feels cheap, dirty, like something scandalous and ill-desired. The connotations paired with the word are about as far from the truth of Kara's reality as she feels that they could be, because the entire thing makes her heart soar above heights even Supergirl has ever risen and flushes her body with a warmth so pervasive that Kara can feel it all the way in her bones. Still, Kara doesn't see it coming, doesn't know Cat's intentions or really even her own; she doesn't know to expect it or even that Cat doesn't actually try to initiate it when she does, especially not in the _way_ that she does, and Kara just doesn't know what else to call it, because the lines are a little bit blurry, at first.

It starts innocently, starts with just a couple of mildly approving sentiments that trigger a reaction inside of Kara both thrilling and bracing, new, low and deep in her belly. It's a frantic swarm of pride and desire and something that Kara thinks feels a little bit like magic, bolstered by every ounce of the vast affection that she's ever harbored for Cat, and the feeling is overwhelming, nice, makes Kara want to seek out more of it. Those few small words teach Kara that she can merit that, from Cat, teach her that she can learn how to inspire them, how to earn more of them, and while she learns, Kara hardly notices that maybe Cat is looking for something in her, too.

All of it starts innocently, harmlessly, but it doesn't start at all until after Cat decides to 'dive,' to leave the home that she has made for herself in National City in favor of deeper waters.

And Kara panics.

Cat Grant is a centric and essential part of Kara's life, here on Earth, and Kara can _remember_ a time without Cat, of course she can, but now that she's known her, now that she's absorbed Cat's light in much the same way as she absorbs that of this planet's sun, Kara can't see how she could ever be expected to thrive again without it. So Kara panics, hides for hours in her apartment while she cries and reminds herself to breathe, just breathe, that it's not goodbye forever– no, it's just until Cat's found whatever it is she's searching for, and why, _why_ can't Cat find it here, in National City? The unwinding questions and devolving thought trails don't help, but Kara doesn't call Alex, doesn't bury herself in a tub of ice cream or turn to the comforts of television for a distraction, because she knows none of that will make this feeling any less bitter or terrible. She just panics. For hours. And cries.

Then Kara steels herself anyway, goes to work the following day and loyally dedicates herself to helping the woman relinquish her legacy to the questionably capable hands of James Olsen. She flourishes in her role as Cat's assistant the same way she's always done, and doesn't even care a little that it's no longer her job to do that, no matter how many times Eve Teschmacher sighs out her frustration and tries to discourage her efforts.

Kara spends days performing her old duties from her new office, gathers the appropriate paperwork and accrues the necessary signatures, frantically arranges, rearranges, rearranges again Cat's schedule to assure that the obligatory, prominent few are bade farewell to avoid any present or future offense to anyone Cat might think to care about later. She sits in on board meetings where stuffy old men and pinched-faced ladies cast wary judgment on every choice Cat has made for her own company in the past decade, watches in ever-present awe as Cat eloquently fends them off and shuts them down with nothing but the power of a few pointed words, and afterward fetches Cat a crisp green salad that makes Cat sigh with pleasure and remark pointedly to Eve that it's the best she's had in months. Kara glows all over with guilty pride, even as she wonders miserably when she will ever have the opportunity to gratify Cat in such a small way again.

It breaks her heart, over and over again, but Kara ignores it as best she can, ostensibly supports Cat's decision in every way that she knows how, and when it's over – when they've signed the last of the documents and Cat's office is overtaken by sports paraphernalia and photos that Kara knows don't belong there – Kara rides with Cat and Carter to the airport. She's selfishly terrified of what comes next and how cavernously deserted she already feels, consumed by fear of what she's going to do without Cat's overpowering presence and advice to guide her forward, but she plasters on a brave face, anyway, and does her best not to cry anymore, because this is what Cat needs right now and Kara could never deny her that, even if she _did_ have that kind of power.

Cat had scoffed and demurred when Kara had first insisted on seeing them off, had outright rejected Kara's request to do so, but Kara had shown up at the door to Cat's condo an hour before Cat's car had arrived and stubbornly refused to leave, carrying the Grants' bags to the trunk just to prove herself useful, one last time.

At the airport, Cat rolls her eyes and flutters a dismissive hand with a weighty, put-upon huff of breath, sharply delivering a couple of insults on Kara's damaging inability to just let _go_ , but Cat does all of that with fond, wet eyes and a foreign little tremor that settles shakily over the pink of her lips. Kara forces a grin through her own tears and waits out the defensive vitriol, coiling her arms around the smaller woman as tight as she dares, despite it.

Cat wraps her arms around Kara's frame, too, squeezing much too closely for even Kara – with all of her insecurities in regard to Cat Grant – to actually believe that the Media Queen is unaffected by their parting, and Kara sighs out a complex noise of crushing relief and desperation that catches in a bed of sun-kissed curls. Kara holds her tight and breathes her in, deep and slow, smells Chanel at her pulse and raspberries in her hair and melds it into memory. She feels Cat's soft skin beneath her fingertips, feels the gentle dip of her flesh beneath Kara's palms, and lingers a second too long just to rejoice in the feel of Cat Grant in her arms, however briefly Kara is privileged to hold her.

When she peels herself away, eyes skirting the tender glance of Cat's green because it shatters her all over and Kara's sure that she can't bear it, Carter tackles into her legs, winding himself around her like a cobra does its prey. She ruffles his hair as he sniffles, combs her fingers through it and kneels down to his level, presses a long kiss into the skin of his forehead before he tucks his nose into the collar of her pastel Oxford. She promises to check in, makes _him_ promise to keep his grades up, swears that she will mail him every article she ever writes as a junior reporter so that he doesn't feel like she's forgotten him, and Kara's sure that she could never.

He's a growing boy and he gets taller every day, Kara thinks, but he is still as sensitive and special as he was when she first met him, and he cares only for a limited number of people. Kara counts as one of them and she knows it, could never forget how he beams at her when he comes to the office, how he grins in triumph when he eventually beats her at Settlers of Catan or the starry-eyed look he casts in Supergirl's direction when she drops by to visit their penthouse, even though Kara is pretty positive that both he and his mother know that they are the same person.

When they walk through security, where Kara can't follow, Cat stalls. It's something Kara has never actually seen Cat do, something that feels bizarre and wrong and only solidifies the feeling mangling at Kara's heart. Cat stalls, stroking her fingers over Kara's shoulder, brushing away a speck of lint that Kara is pretty sure doesn't even exist, and Kara has supervision, so she thinks she'd know.

Cat stalls, and after a long moment practically fit to burst with uncertainty, Cat caringly whispers a quiet, "Thank you, Kara," before she lights the Kryptonian's cheek up with a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Kara blushes furiously and stammers, drags the sleeves of her shirt over her palms and squeezes the fabric between her fingers to keep from reaching out and catching Cat's hips in a too-hard grip. She swallows once, hard, does it again when the first try doesn't work right, and offers a quiet, waterlogged reply.

"You were never a trouble, Ms. Grant. Never more than I could handle, at least."

Then Kara is finally allowed to cry – really, _truly_ cry, fat tears and heaving sobs as she crosses her arms over her stomach and holds onto nothing but her own devastation – because Cat spins abruptly on her Jimmy Choos and clicks urgently away, off on a brand new adventure doing Kara can only guess what, far away from National City.

Kara's felt this way before, this fear, this consuming barrage of isolation. It's not like it once was, or it shouldn't be, Kara knows, but it is. It feels the same.

The unfortunate truth is that this feeling, this painfully deep ache of loneliness and loss, lies at the crux of Kara's existence, the very core of her being. Kara loathes to say goodbye, loathes to be alone, remembers it from when she was small. She remembers the parting words of her mother from long ago, the deep, saddened farewell of her father, remembers the terror of her departure and the explosion of her world, her _home,_ kicking her pod off course. Kara remembers years upon years in the darkest parts of space, remembers the place where all of time stands still but Kara's thoughts and fears and feelings _race_ , remembers how genuinely, petrifyingly alone she had been – the last daughter of a once-advanced planet that is now nothing but a vacant hole in the galaxy – and Kara never wants to feel that way again.

But saying goodbye to Cat Grant– it feels the same, even though Kara knows that it shouldn't.

* * *

It's three weeks of Snapper Carr's relentless dogging before Kara's first article is published. It's a piece on L-Corp, and while the red nightmare of edits Snapper first returns to her is intimidating, Kara works and works and works some more to smile in the face of his snark and persevere in spite of him.

Lena Luthor is kind, and she is smart and she is sweet, and she takes to Kara in a way that makes the blonde reporter glow with immediate fondness. Lena is poised and elegant, sharp – she's had to be, Kara knows, she is a Luthor after all – but she is also warm and soft and she often smiles at Kara like she is the only one who takes from her words what Lena actually means to say. Kara feels her desire to alter the meaning of the Luthor name in everything that the woman does, doesn't care that as a Super she should probably be wary, because how could she be?

Lena works hard and she is brave, she is willing to do what it takes to achieve her goals despite the abundant scorn of the public, and Kara is endeared to her in a way that is brand new, no matter the warnings Kal-El issues forth when he learns of their frequent contact. Kara doesn't care, wants to help Lena, wants to support her throughout the long journey that inevitably lies ahead, and Kara tries her hardest to impose the notion of change for the better in her article without appearing biased, because Kara truly can't help herself.

Snapper hems and haws, but eventually allows it through to print, and the youngest Luthor grins at Kara when she reads it, flushed in her typically-pale cheeks, visibly stunned and flattered by Kara's enthusiastic prose and praise. She presses a gentle kiss into Kara's cheek in gratitude, congratulates her with a tentative squeeze around Kara's waist. Lena promises a night out for drinks soon, and Kara beams out her pride, tells Lena that she's earned it all on her own and that Kara is happy to reward her success.

And Kara is.

She's surprised by the warmth that suffuses her when she realizes she is able to do that, for Lena, that she is able to take control of something and use it to help the brunette move forward. She likes the pleasure in Lena's smile, likes that she is the one responsible for putting it there, the one responsible for the extra sparkle that lights in her bright blue-green eyes. Lena is particularly pretty this way, particularly luminescent and warm in the professionally cool exterior of her office walls, and Kara wants to do more of that for her, will find a way to put that smile back on Lena's face another time.

But it's her first article, and Kara has a job to do, because all she can think in the moment is that she promised. Kara _promised_ Carter, wants to fulfill that promise and knows that it's important, knows that he is waiting, so she leaves Lena's office in a hurry, and it's three whole weeks before Kara dutifully mails off her piece to the young boy who has come to mean so much to her.

It's four weeks when Kara opens her email to a notification from Carter's mother. The message is short, and it tells Kara nothing of what Cat's been doing while Kara struggles through her new job and scrambles to hold onto the memory of Cat and all of the advice that the Media Queen has ever offered to her, but she tremors and shakes all over with heated glee when she reads the three words waiting for her in her inbox.

 _Well done, Kara._

* * *

She takes two days to reply, wants to get it perfect, wants to express her appreciation for the compliment and the compelling gratitude and fluster that she feels at Cat's praise to her work. She wants to acknowledge the older woman's contribution to it, the way that Kara's success has been achieved solely due to Cat and all that the woman has taught her.

She toils for hours over just the right words, working to convey the appropriate emotion, and eventually comes up with something she feels will do the trick.

 _I wouldn't want to disappoint you, Ms. Grant. You've taught me better than that._

And no more than an hour later, Kara's phone dings with a soft, trilling alert in reply. It reads simply: _Good girl._

* * *

And that's how it starts. Innocently, with just a couple of mildly approving sentiments that trigger a reaction inside of Kara both thrilling and bracing, new, low and deep in her belly.

Kara feels it, knows it's important, knows that this can become something more and is willing to try, willing to risk the fragile existence of her heart by betting on Cat Grant. Kara will always bet on Cat, will always believe in her, will always trust her and rely on her, and feels in this moment that Cat might actually _want that,_ from Kara, so Kara is willing to try.

The whole affair dawns harmlessly enough, and Kara begins to feel threads of anxious wonder spooling throughout her veins, sweeping up from her trembling fingers and blooming through her cheeks. Her belly is a nervous bubble of energy, full to burst with an ache of want and clawing need and affection cultured through years of deep, silent longing and care, and Kara hardly knows what to do with herself. She feels a frantic desire to please and to satisfy, to be _good_ , to make Cat proud, to make absolutely sure that Cat never even thinks to regret choosing _Kara,_ because Kara can't believe that Cat would, can't believe that she could ever be so lucky, but she knows well enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth and Kara would laser off her own arm before she'd take an opportunity like this for granted.


	2. Chapter One: Becoming Someone New

The feeling fades.

Kara's hopefulness, her excitement, her eagerness to make a real attempt at a genuine, adult relationship with Cat beyond that of boss to employee, or even friend to friend, ebbs away the longer Kara suffers without speaking to her. Kara remembers what that first email felt like, remembers the giddiness, the pride and the elation, feels childishly embarrassed for how apprehensive she'd been over her answering gratitude. Kara remembers it, of course she does, often even recalls it with a distinct notion of wistfulness, but after a few quiet weeks with no further contact, that feeling fades and leaves in its place something darker than what she'd began with, something bleak, and cold.

Kara staves off the wretched emotion for as long as she can, fights Supergirl's monsters with a little extra _oomph_ to vent out her anxiety _,_ delves into her next article and tries to remind herself that it's no one's fault, that it doesn't matter, that Cat's still alive, still _here_ even if it feels like she's no longer in Kara's orbit. Kara tries, but it's hard, and sometimes she slips, forgets to follow through, forgets to keep up with things in her everyday life and doesn't realize that people are beginning to notice until Alex makes it clear.

"Oh, come on, Kara! We haven't had a game night in months!" The DEO agent whines dramatically, bumping into Kara's shoulder in a would-be playful manner, but Kara knows Alex better than anyone in the galaxy, knows it isn't really playful at all, and Alex isn't honestly being all that dramatic, either. Instead, Alex is being pushy, resolute, almost demanding, even – or at least as demanding as she usually can be, with Kara, barring an extreme circumstance – and the superhero rustles her shoulders in immediate agitation, sighs out in remorse and defeat, because Kara _knows._

Kara knows what Alex really wants to say, that she's been neglecting the people who care about her, that Kara's been isolating herself more than she should, more than is healthy, especially for someone like her, but Kara is doing her best. She's just trying to keep herself afloat, trying to steel herself the way that Cat has taught her. Kara is trying to persevere in the face of Cat's absence, trying not to let it consume her the way that she sometimes feels like it could when she lays in bed every night. She is trying not to let it devour her, the feeling of something _off,_ of something wrong – the feeling she gets when she lets herself think on Cat's unintended yet wayward neglect for longer than she thinks can handle, when she lets herself drown the noise of the rest of the world into a hum as she searches across the globe for the heartbeat she's monitored every day for years and shamefully uses it to lull herself into a few meager hours of sleep.

Kara's dealt with loss this way before, had once settled the forfeiture of her family, culture, religion and home by leeching onto the Danvers family instead, by leeching onto her rock, onto _Alex,_ but it's different this time. It's different, because Kara isn't leeching onto Alex, Kara is leeching onto Supergirl, onto work, onto CatCo, even onto Lena, and Alex doesn't get it, can't see the similarities when it isn't Alex herself who's buoying Kara to shore.

"I've just been busy, Alex," Kara huffs defensively, cringes swiftly and swallows, because Alex doesn't deserve that tone and Kara knows it.

"Yeah," Alex nods sharply, quick-blooming irritation sprouting at the furrow of her brow. "I know. You're a hotshot reporter now, you're Supergirl, you're best buds with Lena freaking _Luthor_ , and you're busy. Fine. Whatever," she snaps, rounding Kara in the halls of the DEO and effectively cornering her, because Kara might be strong, might be powerful, but she would never utilize that power to force Alex to do anything, would never force her out of Kara's way even if it might help Kara to escape a conversation doomed from the very start, and Alex knows it.

She hugs Kara's shoulders in her palms, pulls her fingers tight against the blue fabric of Kara's supersuit, against her biceps, the way Alex used to do when Kara was young and new to this planet. It's a sensation Kara feels, one she understands as an attempt to reach out, to be close, and it isn't too much for Kara, doesn't overwhelm her when it catches her by surprise. Alex had spent hours holding Kara this way when they were children, had braced her hands at Kara's arms and grounded her as Kara had trembled, overstimulated by any one of her newly superpowered senses or driven deep into an ocean of distress and anguish as the realization of her losses had overcome her.

"Kara," Alex breathes tiredly, shoulders caving inward as her autumn brown eyes soften, ease into something less angry, more searching, instead, "I'm busy too, okay? But we make time, we've _always_ made time. So what's different now? What is going _on_ with you, Kara? Talk to me," she pleads, voice low and rumbly in Kara's ears, emotion vibrating through the chords of Alex's throat in a way that Kara wishes her solar-powered hearing couldn't detect.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Kara lies, groans needlessly and can't help herself, can't help the tension that tightens in her muscles or the way it makes her feel fueled by fury and desertion and dread.

Alex doesn't even care about game nights, Kara knows; she's always thought they were a little silly, juvenile, plied with not-nearly-enough alcohol, but she always comes, always shows up for Kara's benefit because it's how Kara keeps her family close. It's how she keeps eyes on them and knows that they are safe, happy, how Kara brings them all together and reminds herself that Earth, this place, these people are her home now, that she still has one even though Kara once lost her whole entire world.

Her sister is bothered, she is concerned for Kara, because if Kara isn't interested in game night, Alex knows what that means. She knows that Kara is actively disengaging, that she is hoisting her anchor and losing herself at sea. Alex is worried because that's what Alex does, what Alex has always done. She worries for Kara, it's part of who she is, and Kara is grateful, loves her sister to pieces and wants to tell her, wants to explain, but Kara can't do that because Alex would never understand.

"There's nothing to talk about," Kara repeats more softly, resigns herself to the lie, doesn't add that there's plenty to talk about, just nothing that she can talk about with _Alex_ , because it hurts Kara to admit it but it will hurt Alex even more to hear it.

Kara doesn't want that, doesn't want to hurt Alex just because Kara is hurting, but the fact of the matter is that Alex has always disliked Cat, has never understood Kara's affection for her, Kara's loyalty. Alex has never believed that Cat deserves it, has never believed that Cat has earned that from Kara with the way that she would speak to her, the way that she would purposefully summon Kara by the wrong name time and time again, the way she would run Kara ragged all over the city on a whim, mostly just for Cat's own entertainment.

And it's true, Alex is right, at least a little. She is right about Cat, even if she is wrong about Cat's motivations, wrong about what she deserves from Kara, because Kara knows Cat better than most, has spent more time with her in the past few years than anyone else save maybe her own son, and Kara understands better than anyone that Cat Grant is a supremely difficult woman. Kara is not so blinded by her light that she can ignore it, knows that Cat truly _is_ the ball-busting bully Alex so often sees in her, at least in part. Kara can't deny that, she won't, and how could she?

Cat pushes her further than Kara sometimes feels she can bear, sets standards so high that they're frankly almost impossible to reach, but Kara always emerges on the other end, weary and accomplished, proud. It doesn't matter what Alex thinks, not about this, not about Cat, because at the end of each day that Kara's ever spent with the former CEO, Kara's always felt that it was worth it. Kara knows it doesn't matter what hoops Cat had asked her jump through, doesn't matter how Cat had demanded that she prove herself, because Cat always knew that Kara could and always gave her the opportunity. Cat had only ever done it to teach Kara the value and importance of hard work, of dedication and attention to even the tiniest of details. She only ever did it to teach Kara that those things _matter,_ particularly for women, and particularly in their male-dominated field.

It was worth it, will always be worth it, because Kara has learned so much from her, has learned to be brave, to be brazen when she needs it. Kara has learned that humbling herself is not always best, that she needs to take pride in what she does and show it off sometimes, demonstrate for anyone watching that she is capable and knows it. She has learned to be strong, independent, has learned that it's no one's job to recognize her work or efforts but her own.

Kara has learned what it means to be powerful without owning any real power except the words one chooses and how they can be wielded, and in return, Kara has offered Cat devotion. Kara has established that she will never give up on Cat, that she will always do her best, for Cat, that Kara will tough it out, be strong in the same way Cat has had to be, still has to be, and that she will show up every morning with a smile on her face, loyal, determined to do better than the day before.

Alex doesn't get that, only ever sees all that Cat has _taken_ , from Kara, and none of what Cat has given her, so Kara doesn't know how to explain. It doesn't really matter, either, Kara guesses, because she couldn't find the words to describe how or why she feels so abandoned even if she tried, knows only that Cat is important to her, vital, and that Kara is lost without her.

But Cat isn't here and her family, her friends, still are, so Alex is probably right and maybe Kara just needs to pretend for a while, pretend that everything is okay even if she feels like she's falling apart.

"I'm fine. It's fine, okay? We'll have a game night, order some pizza, maybe Chinese," Kara relents, grasping Alex's elbows beneath careful fingers as she nods, slow and steady, calm, even though Kara doesn't feel like any of those things. "How's Friday? Can we make Friday work?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, smiles just a little at the corner of her mouth, pleased but not completely. "Yeah, we'll make Friday work."

She's not satisfied, Kara knows. Kara hasn't offered her enough, hasn't cleared any of the air between them, but it's a small victory in Alex's favor and it'll have to do, because that's all Kara thinks she can offer, right now.

* * *

Kara has lunch with Lena.

The CEO of L-Corp surprises her, glides into CatCo on red-soled Gucci power heels that Kara is too absorbed in her next article to hear approaching from down the hall. She knocks gently at the door to Kara's office, quiet, tentative, smiles shy and sweet when Kara allows her in and comes as close to rambling as Kara's ever heard her, and it's a little comical to the reporter that verbal vomit is spewing from someone else's mouth, for a change. Lena tells Kara that she's picked up some potstickers – some of the best in the city, if Yelp reviews still possess any merit – and explains that she thought they could eat together, that she hopes she isn't interrupting, isn't overstepping the boundaries of their friendship by entering Kara's workspace uninvited.

Their acquaintance is only two months in the making, still new, but Kara is always charmed by Lena, likes her more and more each day. She likes the way that Lena lights up when she sees her, the way she says Kara's name like she treasures the taste of it at the tip of her tongue.

Lena's never shown up at CatCo before, especially not for anything like this, so it makes sense that she is hesitant, but Kara could never be offended, would never scold Lena for going so far out of her way just to visit with Kara over lunch for an hour. Still, she's enjoying the way that Lena's hands move while she's anxious, likes that she can make Lena flush this lively, flattering shade of pink, likes how Lena fidgets and abruptly stops herself from speaking with wide, waiting eyes so that Kara can edge in a reply.

Kara is always happy to see her, loves every opportunity Snapper gives her to make even the briefest of appearances in Lena's office, instead, but after today, after the strained conversation shared with Alex this morning, Kara thinks it's especially nice to see her. It's wonderful to be with someone who knows Kara's character, knows who she is, but can't measure the difference between a Kara who exists with Cat and a Kara who's been forced to subsist without her, and Kara could probably cry, she's so relieved to see Lena Luthor's pretty face.

So, when Lena is done explaining her reasons for being here – reasons Kara doesn't really thinks she needs in the first place, walking into Kara's office looking all gorgeous and flustered like that, carrying a bag of potstickers that she knows are Kara's favorites – that's what Kara tells her.

"I missed your face," she smiles, wide, pleased, and laughs in delight when Lena ducks her head, stifles a proud, quiet huff of a chuckle into the brown paper bag she's brought for Kara.

"I missed yours, too," Lena answers fondly. "Or couldn't you tell? You know, I don't spontaneously dip out of the office in the middle of a workday for just _anyone,_ Kara Danvers," she shares on a staged whisper, discrete, playful, and Kara beams at her, offers her a seat, asks Lena to talk about her day and listens diligently throughout.

Lena is kind, though, and she reciprocates. She asks about Kara's day, too, and Kara can't help herself, is so overwhelmed by emotion that she blurts out as much as she dares. She tells Lena about Alex's concern, about game night and how she's succumbed to it, about how she feels trapped and doesn't know what to do.

The youngest Luthor sits on it, for a moment – Kara's noticed she likes to do that, process information, form a true and genuine opinion before blithely issuing forth a comment – and in the middle, they discuss Lena's latest project, Kara's newest article on public transportation and how poorly it's progressed with the needs of National City's people.

Lena doesn't let it sit for too long, though, something Kara appreciates, marvels at, but that surprises her every time, because it always seems to creep up on her when Lena eventually brings the conversation back around.

"You're really dreading this," Lena remarks finally with a laugh in her voice, light and teasing, curious.

"No," Kara frowns instinctively, realizes that's not right, that it's a lie, because Kara is, she _is_ dreading it, so she shakes her head and sighs in confession. "Maybe. I don't know," she declares, then pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts, organize them in a way that makes sense. "It's just… they expect me to be a certain way, you know?" Kara tilts her head in consideration, really thinks about why she's so reluctant to join the people closest to her in a lighthearted meeting of fun, and of laughter. "But lately I've been- going through something. I just… I sort of lost someone, recently?" Kara shuffles uncomfortably, adjusts her glasses with fumbling fingers, sobers for Lena's sake and pouts, but doesn't mean to. "Not like, _lost someone._ She didn't die, or anything, but- she left. And it's good!" Kara is quick to add, quick to reinforce, because it's true, it _is_ good, but only partially, so Kara shakily, truthfully amends, "For her. I think it's probably good," she nods convincingly, even nearly convinces herself, but doesn't quite. "For me, though… it's- it's kind of been anti-good," she laughs overtly, too loudly, shrugs with a burden weighing over her back. "It's hard, and it's sort of lonely, and I- I'm struggling," she admits finally, breathes on a wisp of air that nearly flutters out of human earshot.

Lena reaches out, hand shadowing Kara's own and squeezing gently, warm and soothing. "I'm new to the city, Kara, but even I've heard how difficult Cat Grant is to work for, even indirectly," she smiles knowingly, sympathetic and soft. "You worked with her for years, put up with her attitude and stuck it out no matter what hell I'm sure she put you through. I imagine you must've cared for her quite a lot to do that, and I can see why it would be difficult to adjust, in her absence."

Kara could cry again, she could scream, she could punch through the entire atmosphere with her euphoria at just being understood, even from Lena's somewhat removed perspective.

" _Yes!"_ Kara agrees eagerly. "Yes, exactly, and it's not like- you know," she growls, frustrated and confused, waves her hands in front of her chest like a physical manifestation of illiteracy. "It's not like we were really close, or anything, but sometimes we were, and sometimes- sometimes I felt like we could've been a lot closer, even…" Kara trails, stares off listlessly, sighs long and hopeless, drained. "But we never were, she never wanted that, I don't think, and now she's gone, and I'm just… I'm learning what it means to be my own person without her. My family, my friends- they don't get it, you know?" Kara bites her lip self-consciously, tucks an errant blonde strand behind her ear, lowers her head. "They've never understood why I care about her the way that I do, as _much_ as I do, so it's hard to tell them that I just need some time to get used to her being gone."

Lena presses a pointer finger to her lips in thought, slim and elegant, draws Kara's fixated attention to the dark, lovely shade that colors the pretty shape of her mouth, before Lena cautiously suggests, "I could join you, if you like. I mean," she stammers briefly, swiftly gathers herself with the poise of a proper Luthor, straightens her spine and tries again, "there obviously isn't much I can do to change the circumstances, of course, but I could- I could be there, if you want, as a distraction? Maybe even as a- a friend?"

She is explorative, indecisive. Kara can tell that Lena doesn't often use that word, but the superhero doesn't care, is proud to hear it, proud that Lena recognizes Kara as someone she can trust, someone she can rely on, because what is a friend if not both of those things?

"Can you be at my place on Friday? Around seven?" Kara leans across her desk, eager and triumphant, genuine, and Lena's slow-burning smile dawns dazzlingly in the wake of Kara's formal invitation.

"I'd love to, Kara."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ How'd I do?


	3. Chapter Two: Ticking Bombs

On Wednesday, Snapper publishes Kara's next article. It's the same one she'd spent time discussing with Lena over lunch, the same one she's been working on for three long, grueling weeks, but it's still only Kara's second. The superhero is reluctant, doesn't particularly want to reach out, not to the Grant family, especially not right now, but Kara made a promise and she's always kept her word, would never hurt Carter by neglecting to make good on it.

She isn't hopeful, when she sends it off. Kara doesn't expect anything in return, at least not from Cat, because Kara's recently come to recognize that Cat Grant probably doesn't grieve the loss of Kara the way that Kara does for Cat. The media mogul probably doesn't mind that Kara is no longer a constant in her life, she likely doesn't think of Kara at random intervals during the day or hide in her office for a few quiet moments of isolation and tremendous terror when she remembers that she's gone, might not even notice that Kara isn't around.

It's fine, Kara thinks, it isn't Cat's fault, it's no one's fault but her own, if she's honest. The Queen of All Media has never truly given Kara a reason to believe that she cares, has offered no real indication that Kara has ever been wanted in her life, or even that she matters to it, so it isn't Cat's fault that Kara feels this way, even if Kara occasionally blames the older woman for it in some of her lesser moments.

Kara is learning to accept that truth, is grudgingly beginning to understand that she has unwittingly, yet irrevocably offered Cat a profound sort of power over her that Cat had never wanted, had never accepted responsibility for. It's a slow process, it takes time, but Kara is learning to accept it, so she doesn't expect anything when she licks the stamp and mails weeks' worth of hard work off to Carter. Kara has no right to expect anything and knows it, has no right to even hope for it, so Kara just… doesn't.

Instead, Kara trudges into work like a soldier, accepts her new assignment from Snapper with a nod, a slight quirk at the edge of her mouth because it's the closest thing Kara can manage to a smile, and sits in her office doing research for an hour. She doesn't allow Facebook or Twitter or the recent updates on Supergirl to distract her, shifts her focus only briefly to confirm plans for game night with Alex and Winn and Lucy and James, but most importantly with Lena, because Kara thinks Lena Luthor might secretly be her hero, might be the only thing to save her from whatever it is she's suffering through, right now, and will almost definitely be the only thing to save her from what Kara anticipates she will have to suffer through this evening.

The interaction is short, though, Kara keeps it that way on purpose, keeps it to-the-point and then gets back to work, and Kara does it for an hour longer. She tries, she does her best, she pushes Carter and Cat and her second article and the praise that Kara is not expecting as far from her mind as she can.

It wears on Kara in the same heart-wrenching way that it always does, but Kara keeps doing it anyway, keeps trying because that's what Cat would do, because it's what Cat would want Kara to do if she were still here to tell her so. Kara shouldn't care, she knows, shouldn't ground her entire life in the imagined demands of a woman who isn't even around to notice how well Kara adheres to them, but that ship sailed a long time ago and Kara's resigned herself to that, isn't bothered by it, doesn't think too much about it and on most occasions doesn't care. Kara just does as Cat would tell her to, because that's when Kara thrives, when Kara feels her strongest.

She's right in the middle of requesting an interview, right in the middle of firing off an email to the state's House representative when her phone lights up, compellingly captures her attention for just long enough and buzzes forebodingly across her desk. It freezes Kara, immobilizes her completely with fingers hovered, still and tense, over the trackpad of her laptop. The sight of it drives Kara into an immediate fit of complicated elation, confusion, and rage, rattles her all over and catches her heart between beats, because somehow, impossibly, it is Cat's name stretching over the front of the screen, Cat's loud, familiar ringtone distracting Kara from her research.

It's Cat who is calling her, _Cat_ who is calling _Kara_. It's Cat, _Cat, Cat, Cat, Cat, Cat,_ and Kara almost misses the call entirely, she's so bewildered by the untimely phenomenon.

"H-hello?" Kara gracelessly fumbles, nearly tips her office chair backwards, bumps her knee into the underside of her desk, but doesn't feel it and doesn't care. "Ms. Grant?"

" _Honestly,"_ Cat sighs theatrically, and Kara can all but see her eyes rolling into the back of her head, _"after all this time, my number must be saved in your contacts, thus you must realize that it is, in fact, me who is calling. So are you asking me a question, Kara, or are you issuing a greeting?"_

Kara frowns at her didactically irritated tone, stammers, stumbles over her instinctive embarrassment, but still obediently replies, "I- Um… Greeting? I- yes. Yes!" She rallies, then laughs, disordered and awkward, unbiddenly thrilled. "Hi!"

" _Better,"_ Cat hums approvingly, and Kara trembles all over, proud when she shouldn't be, knows she shouldn't be, because this is probably cruel.

It's cruel of Cat to do this, to call her up after so long without contact and chastise her right off the bat like she's done something wrong when she hasn't, when she knows that she hasn't, knows that she's spent two months doing everything Cat would tell her to do without a second thought, just _because_ Cat would tell her to do it. It's cruel, Kara knows, she isn't oblivious to it, but that's just the way Cat is, and it doesn't stop the reaction that Kara must endure, must always endure, despite it. She still quivers at the purr of Cat's voice, flushes under her criticism and seeks to earn something more, something better in its place, still rejoices in the knowledge that Cat has called her, that Cat needs something from Kara that no one else can offer.

Kara waits to hear what that something is, waits for Cat to ask something of her, but Cat says nothing right away, clucks her tongue softly but otherwise lets the air hang tense and quiet, stilted. Kara recognizes it as a power play, has watched attentively as Cat has done this to countless others more times than she could number. Kara understands what's happening, knows exactly what Cat is doing, but has no idea why.

She tries to understand, Kara does, but she just can't fathom how Cat could possibly feel that she needs to wield any more power over Kara when Kara has already relinquished it all, when she has freely offered that, to Cat, has foolishly gifted that power with nothing promised in return, only to have it backfire and shatter in Kara's heart.

Kara is too flustered to think, to breathe, and she's certainly not brave or stupid enough to make an attempt at speaking. Cat won't speak first, that's part of the game, Kara knows, but the impasse leaves them with a slight stall, a brief moment of indecisiveness that settles in the static between them.

Then, agonizingly, Kara begins to calm. She settles her pulse and recovers her thoughts, comes back to herself, feels a slow fury grumble to life in the silence, furrows her brow in frustration and bemusement, because what _does_ Cat want? She must want something, Kara thinks, she must be calling for a reason, because Cat's lack of contact over the past several weeks has proven nothing to Kara but the fact that Cat doesn't miss her the way that Kara had hoped she might. Cat wouldn't call her up just to chat, wouldn't bother to call Kara just because she can, just because she wants to, so why now? Why pick up the phone and call Kara _now?_

"Was there- Is there something you needed, Ms. Grant?"

She sounds irritated, Kara realizes with surprise. She's never spoken this way to Cat, not without the influence of Red K, anyway, but she sounds aggravated, disgruntled, impatient, Kara can hear it threading through her own words in a way that it never has before.

Kara doesn't want that, doesn't want to taint this moment with something so negative and angry, but Kara can't help it. It isn't Cat's fault, none of this is Cat's fault, that's what Kara's told herself, what she's been telling herself for weeks. Kara knows better, knows that her blame is misplaced, that it should come down on Kara's own shoulders and that it's no one else's to bear. Kara knows all of that but it doesn't stop her, doesn't halt her abruptly present fury, not even for a second, because Kara is– she's just so _angry_.

But Kara's never been angry at Cat, not like this, not this acutely, Kara doesn't really even know how to express it. She just feels it lighting hot and wide in her chest, searing, scorching and impulsive, and Kara reevaluates her own thoughts, thinks that she might actually be about to do something both brave and stupid.

" _My son,"_ Cat huffs but refers to Carter fondly, always so fondly, and Kara wants to smile at that but can't. _"He has spoken of nothing but you and your article all morning. It seems that Carter is… proud,"_ she notes begrudgingly, sighs again and blows past it in that ostensibly careless way that Cat does, the way that tries its hardest to blow the vastness of Cat's affection off in the wind and that Kara might typically feel warmed by, then carries on with what Kara imagines is a directive flutter of her fingers and a little bit of fanfare. _"He is irritatingly persistent in his pride, but he is, nevertheless, very proud of you, Kara. Carter asked me to make sure that you knew."_

It's sweet, Kara wishes she could kiss his cheek, could squeeze him tight and thank him over and over for being so thoughtful and considerate. She owes Carter a care package, she knows, makes a mental note to make a special trip to the game store just for him, remembers that she'll need to spring for a decent compass, too. Carter has been marveling at them recently, has submitted several requests for various camping magazines, much to Cat's immense annoyance and perplexity, just to see the different kinds.

It's not like he's never seen one, Kara knows, but he's starting to admire how the once-revolutionary technology functions and understand its mechanics, its history. Carter wants to take it apart and put it together again, figure out how to improve it, what he can do to make it better now. Kara comes from a predominately rational and scientific race, had spent years staving off the same overly-inquisitive impulses that Carter now struggles with when she'd first come to this planet, so Kara gets it, Carter's need to understand the way that the world around him works. Kara also knows that most people don't, knows that most people think it's strange and shy away because it's different, knows that most times, it doesn't feel like the gift that the ones closest to you would have you believe. Kara knows that it is _lonely,_ being the way that Carter is, the way that she is, too, so she owes him a care package and a compass, privately clears her Monday morning to make the time to do it.

But even Carter can't occupy Kara's focus for long, can't distract her from what is happening in the moment, with Cat Grant on the line and Kara's heart throbbing so violently with heated fury that Kara can't control it.

"Are you– " Kara swallows, thick and heavy, takes a moment to collect her rage as best she can and tries again, tries to offer Cat an opportunity to defuse the pulsing bomb inside of her chest that Kara's bountiful emotions have wired up to form before she explodes, takes everything within immediate range down with her. "Are you proud, too, Ms. Grant?"

Kara has only ever heard Cat sigh this much during conversations with her mother, debatably with Donald Trump in a couple of brief, vicious interviews where she inevitably knocked him down a few points in the polls. Kara knows it's an omen, a warning shot for the forthcoming lecture, but Kara doesn't retract her question, she can't, she needs the answer and has needed it for weeks, months, probably even for years.

" _Kara,"_ the older blonde softly but impatiently hisses out her name, rumbles something sly and dangerous, deep, and Kara's heard lesser men make puns in moments like these about cats extending their claws, but Kara would never dare to do the same, _"have I ever once failed to advise you when you've needed it? Have I failed to provide you with opportunities to succeed, to do well in the eyes of others?"_ She waits, but Kara doesn't reply, not immediately, because she isn't sure how she can. _"Have I failed to guide you, to mentor you to the best of my ability?"_

Kara still isn't sure how to answer her. Cat speaks with intolerance, but also with confidence, and it's confidence she deserves, Kara knows, because the older woman isn't wrong. She isn't unjustified in what she has said, Cat _has_ done all of those things, even if it's always been in Cat's own, often roundabout sort of way. Cat has done everything that she's claimed to, has done all of that for Kara for several years now, in fact, but Kara's starting to realize how that isn't the entire truth of it, either.

It's the truth, but it isn't the _whole_ truth, because Kara has had to fight to earn those things from Cat, has had to fight just to make Cat care enough to look. Kara's had to fight and claw and basically break skin just to steal Cat's attention long enough, to make her see when Kara is even need of those things from her, and then Kara's had to fight harder to drag the wisdom and kindness out from the stubborn seal of Cat's lips.

" _No,"_ Cat answers herself after a timed, predatory pause. _"No, I have not failed to do those things, and I believe that both you and I are aware enough to acknowledge that, to acknowledge that I typically would not bother to do so for someone-_ average _. So you tell me right now, Kara Danvers,"_ Cat drawls, deliberate and slow, lets the half-asked question hang in a moment of suspenseful silence, the way Cat so enjoys to do. _"You tell me why I would waste hours', days' worth of my invaluable time on someone who is not what I deem praiseworthy. Surely you are not still so insecure, so childishly in need of approval that you can't see that for yourself?"_ She demands with a scoff, a soft snort of derisiveness that makes Kara flinch.

The bomb inside of Kara ticks once, twice, threatens imminent devastation and Kara knows that this is her chance, it's probably her only chance to back away and calm herself, to just hang up the phone and apologize for her rudeness later, but Kara doesn't want that. She thinks that this has been years in the making, that she has sat on this festered need for far too long, has hidden all of it from Cat at the expense of her own heart. It's unhealthy, that's what Alex keeps trying to tell her – that what Kara is doing, the way that she feels is unhealthy – but Kara can only see it moments like these, when it feels like Cat goes out of her way to strike at Kara where she knows that it will hurt her most. Kara doesn't want to hang up, she is exhausted by putting her own feelings on the shelf and thinks it must be time to stop, that it must be time to let this _go,_ to gain Cat's permission to do that. Kara is– she's just so tired, so full of anger and so alone, and Cat never does anything to soften it.

"Seriously?" Kara breathes out her incredulity, opts for brazenness but doesn't really, because Kara would never have chosen this reaction, would certainly have preferred more dignity, more collection and poise if given half a chance, but that's not how it happens. "Do you really not see it, Ms. Grant? I'm not very subtle," Kara confesses earnestly because she knows, hates to acknowledge it but knows, knows that she doesn't comprehend emotional intricacies in the way that humans are innately programmed to, but that Kryptonians are not. "I don't feel like I've ever masked it well. I haven't- I've never gone out of my way to hide it, and you're a very perceptive and intelligent woman, Ms. Grant… Can you honestly tell me you don't know that you are the _only_ person that I would tolerate such borderline bipolar treatment from, that you don't recognize how I look up to you and rely on you?"

Kara is aching, now, just tired and miserable and weak, but doesn't care. This needs to be said, it's long overdue, but it doesn't hurt Kara any less to know that. She's spent so long holding this part of herself close to her chest, has spent so long shielding the repercussions of this need, the hurt and anguish of it, away from Cat just to keep from voicing how it breaks her, but Kara doesn't know how to do that anymore when Cat isn't at least nearby, when she isn't close and Kara can't even feel her.

"It isn't- It isn't insecurity, Ms. Grant. I don't care about anyone's approval, not my sister's, not my mother's, not anyone's, usually. It's just _yours_ that I need. I need _your_ approval, Ms. Grant, _your_ attention, just- just _you_. I'm an adult, now. I am an adult, I make choices for myself and create my own paths, I know that because you have taught me that, Ms. Grant, but is it really so difficult for you to understand why I might also, just once, want to know that I am doing well in the eyes of the person who has made me into this?"

" _Now, Kara, you're getting flustered,"_ Cat sighs again, but this time sounds fond, gentle, nearly soft, like maybe she's heard at least part of what Kara has said, but uncharacteristically thinks that Kara is being cute, thinks that she is precious and naïve in her outrage, even if still somewhat bothersome. _"I thought you'd grown out of this- this childish need for my support. I thought we had grown past this."_

"Why?" Kara instantly demands to know, sharply demands an answer, laughs cynically and scoffs. "Why would you think that, Ms. Grant? What reason have I ever given to make you believe that your approval is no longer something that I need, that gaining it has ever _not_ been a priority, for me? _"_

" _Oh, stop with the dramatics, already,"_ Cat snaps impatiently, spins a quick one-eighty from her near-kindness in the moments preceding. _"You're being ridiculous."_

" _No,"_ Kara snarls in a way that is unlike her, in a way that burrows up from the caverns of her stomach, shreds shrapnel through her throat and burns on its way out. "You don't get to tell me that, Ms. Grant. You don't- you don't get to tell me that my feelings don't matter. You just- you just _don't._ Do you have any idea what you leaving has even done to me? Do you even care?"

" _This is not_ _what I called you to discuss, Kara,"_ Cat growls low and deep, fights Kara's fire with one of her very own, one that is signature to her nature, one that Kara has witnessed more times than once and that often scorches everything in its path, but Kara doesn't care, for once isn't bothered, because today, right now in this moment, Kara burns brighter than Cat, burns so brightly with fury and passion and seclusion that it blinds, and Kara knows it.

"I don't care!" She retaliates brusquely, savagely, rushes forward into thoughts that Kara hadn't even known how to voice. "I don't _care,_ Ms. Grant, because I really _don't_ think you know what you've done to me. I thought, before you left, that maybe you'd begun to realize, that you'd begun to see. I thought, maybe… but you really don't know, do you? You really don't know how hard it's been for me, you never even thought that your absence might mean anything to me, after we said goodbye, did you?"

" _Kara – "_

"You told me you were leaving," Kara cuts her off, knows she's never done it before but is feeling brave, bold, wounded and scarred. "You told me you'd decided, that I didn't have a choice, that you were just- going. You told me you were leaving, Ms. Grant, and you didn't give me time to process that, or tell me why or what it means," Kara rambles, feels the words building in her heart and in the moment doesn't care how they emerge or what the consequences might be. "You just- you hugged me goodbye and you told me to dive, and I _did,_ Ms. Grant, I _have._ I've done- I've done everything that you wanted, I've _always_ done everything that you wanted," Kara pants in distress but doesn't tire, doesn't stop, isn't sure that she even can and surely doesn't know how.

"I- I tried to earn everything that I ever wanted or expected from you, Ms. Grant. I tried to be good, and useful, and- and more than the ordinary girl that I was always taught to be, that I was always told I had to be. I did that for you, Ms. Grant, _because of you,_ because of what you taught me and how _you_ taught me to be, and then at the airport you- you kissed me!" Kara finally lets it surface, lets her festered confusion and upset and abandonment boil over and arise. "You kissed me like I'd earned that, like I'd earned that kind of affection from you _,_ and then you _left me,_ Ms. Grant. You left me, you left me behind, left me alone. You don't even see it, but I can't think of anything else, I can't- I can't – oh, oh, I really can't do this," Kara breathes heavily, drops her head onto her desk, tells herself to breathe, just breathe, as she remembers again what true panic feels like.

Kara remembers what it's like to be alone in the dark, with no one to hold and nothing to turn to, no family or religion, not even hope. Kara remembers it all, remembers why she feels this way. She remembers that Cat had become her light, not very long ago at all, remembers that Cat had felt like the sun, like the sustainer of life that the red star Rao once was to Kara before her worshipped deity allowed her planet to deplete itself, the way that she feels Cat is allowing Kara to do to herself now.

She hates that she needs to explain this to Cat, needs to explain what the woman means to her after all that Kara has done to prove herself worthy in the eyes of a Queen, after how Kara has lain devotion and loyalty and her heart at Cat's feet. Kara hates that she needs to explain how it feels to be abandoned by something that seems to her like the giver of all things good in Kara's world, hates how similar it feels to floating in a pod through space, through a vacant void where all of time stands still but Kara's thoughts and fears and feelings _race,_ where Kara howls at the god she'd once so adored who forsook her family, her home, her people, who forsook Kara when she'd needed Rao the most.

But Kara's mind never really stops, never ceases to move and cycle and churn. It's a curse resultant of Kara's years alone in the Phantom Zone, where all Kara ever had were her own thoughts to keep her company, to stave off the dark and the lonesomeness. It's part of who Kara is, its half of her entire essence, so it only takes a moment for Kara to realize that she is the one who has made Cat into this. Kara is the one who has held her up and placed her on a pedestal. Cat had never asked for that, had obviously never wanted that, at least not from Kara, and Kara didn't mean to do it but she did, she did that. Cat isn't responsible, Kara is, she knows that. It's what Kara's been telling herself for weeks, even without knowing the true depth of the emotion that was fueling it.

This is the way that Kara feels, yes, but Kara knows it isn't right to share it, not like this, not this way, no matter how badly she wants Cat to understand, no matter how badly she wants Cat to care enough to _want_ to understand.

"I'm sorry," Kara trembles with anxiety, quivers all over with suppressed need and holes in her heart and tiredness lingering in the back of her skull. "You didn't sign up for this, Ms. Grant, and I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to say those things, wrong of me to lash out at you. Please forgive me, just- please pretend this never happened," Kara relents wearily, sighs long and hard, presses the pads of her fingers into her eyes to stem the tears and presses even harder, presses until her head throbs and bears the brunt of Kara's anguish.

" _Kara,"_ Cat exhales, soft and wounded, maybe even breathy. _"Kara, you- I – "_

Kara's never heard this woman stutter, has never heard Cat Grant hesitate this noticeably unless it involves her own sons, her family, and Kara knows that she's not a part of it, reminds herself of that on a fairly regular basis, but it still feels nice to know to know that she can affect Cat, even just a little.

Cat sucks in a sharp breath and pauses, deliberates carefully and Kara is grateful. Kara takes advantage of the quiet to try and steady herself, dims the noise of the rest of the world into a hum to search out Cat's heartbeat and hear it echo in her ears, just that and nothing else, uses it to regulate the erratic pattern of her own even though Cat's is somewhat satisfyingly beating much too quickly, also.

" _This is a conversation meant to be held in person,"_ Cat declares eventually, a tentative tremor in her voice that both hurts Kara and makes her hopeful again, all in the same breath. _"I'll be in town next week. I have a meeting with the board, and I'll be in National City from Tuesday through Sunday. Clear an evening, Kara,"_ Cat instructs gently, almost tenderly, and Kara quakes in her chair like the last few minutes never even happened, feels that same, eager desire to please that Cat never fails to inspire. _"Clear any evening, during that time, and I'll set it aside for us to speak. We'll have dinner,"_ she decides, bowls over the anxious reluctance that Kara feels begin to broil and douses it in an instant, swats at it like a fly in the wind.

Cat makes it clear that she is not asking, she is demanding. She is making it clear that she expects to see Kara when she is in town, and Kara might be angry, might feel broken, lost, and uncertain, but Kara always does her best to meet Cat's expectations, to exceed them when she can. So Kara does as Cat tells her to, because that's when Kara thrives, when Kara feels her strongest, and Kara really needs to feel strong again.

"Yes, Ms. Grant," she sighs quietly, bitterly charmed by Cat's insistence as she sinks into an odd little headspace where Kara is pleased to be responsible for nothing more than the fulfillment of a request that Cat knows Kara can live up to, that she knows Kara can satisfy, and Kara hangs up before she can work herself into a wreck over that for probably the eighth time just today.

After ten minutes of closely regulated breathing, however, Kara idly catches herself wondering how early she can convince Lena to swing by, how soon she can tell Lena to come and see her before it reflects poorly on her character. Kara thinks she could really enjoy her company, right now, could really appreciate the presence of someone as effortlessly warm and kind as Lena, someone who will follow Kara's lead, every now and again, and won't force her to feel guilty for enjoying that. She likes how Lena always looks to Kara to confirm the progress of their relationship, likes how she lets Kara draw the lines when she isn't sure if she's crossing them or still has room to venture further, even when Kara thinks she makes it clear that she is open to anything that Lena feels able to offer her.

Kara thinks she'd just really, really like to see Lena, right now, so she texts her and doesn't think about it, tells Lena she's had a very difficult day and is picking up tequila, even though Kara's planning to make an extra stop at Mon-El's alien bar to pick up a little something rare and special just for herself, too. Kara tells Lena that she should join her as quickly as she's able, because Kara still misses her face and could really use her, the one important being in her life who understands that Kara can be her own person and still rely on others to help her cope with the reality of what that actually means, later on.


	4. Chapter Three: Basic Intimacy

_Author's Note:_ This chapter is sort of an exploration of Lena and Kara, and how they might relate to one another realistically. There's less dialogue, so I'm sorry for that, but I think the conversations included are important ones! Let me know what you think.

* * *

Lena shows up at Kara's apartment an hour after Kara reaches out to her. Kara's just finished running her errands, has hardly walked through the door and is still tucking the liquor away to chill when Lena's newly-familiar, tentative knock at the door surprises her. It shouldn't, Kara knows, Lena has so far proven to be a delightfully supportive friend and Kara had asked for Lena to join her as soon as the CEO could make it possible, but it's four o'clock on a Friday afternoon.

Most people probably would call it the start to an early weekend, a well-earned treat at the end of a long and tiring work week, but Kara knows that Lena Luthor isn't anything like most people. Lena is intelligent and grossly successful, driven, she works hard and she works a lot. It's a requirement of her position, Kara knows, because Lena doesn't exactly have much of a choice. She can't achieve anything with her incarcerated brother's company if she doesn't work for it, if she isn't there most moments of the day to convince all those watching, all those eagerly awaiting her failure that she is dedicated and strong, that she has the vision, the determination and ambition, the power to make L-Corp thrive.

Kara often wonders hard that must be for Lena. She thinks it must be so taxing for the CEO, must be so repetitively exhausting. Kara thinks that at times, when the progress of National City's mindset is slow to forgive and even slower to trust, it might even feel like a wasted effort, a hopeless cause that isn't even worth the energy to convince the people otherwise, but as trying as that must be for her, Lena never gives in.

Kara isn't convinced that Lena even knows how.

Instead, when Lena is in public, the brunette straightens her spine and stands tall, arms herself with sinful, dangerous heels and an overwhelmingly charming smile, reminds the world that she is a Luthor not to be trifled with and braves to show the city how she is _different from them, too_. Lena flawlessly presents herself as the reformed face of a family with a burned and shattered legacy, the sympathetic image of a company that has hurt and frightened hundreds. Lena has to be constantly aware, has to constantly strive to prove her own worth and the worth of the Luthor name to everyone who doubts it, and Kara thinks that probably includes proving it to herself, too.

Escaping that name is not a reality for Lena, it's not even a possibility, not from what Kara's learned of her, because Lena has ambition, focus, the desire to want to do morewith the power her name carries with it, to make it mean something better. Lena wants to prove that the Luthor name can bring brightness to the world, that it can provide something beneficial and efficient, something good and that can _do_ good for the people. Lena has a long way left to go, Kara knows, she's only at the start of a journey that will probably be incredibly hard, difficult to weather at nearly every stage, but Kara thinks that right now Lena is soaring, she is excelling, so the superhero understands why her friend has to dedicate so much of herself to L-Corp, even if Kara also thinks that sometimes it's too much for Lena to bear on her own.

Still, all of that also means that leaving the office at four o'clock on any day, even a Friday afternoon, is likely unheard of for the youngest Luthor.

It warms Kara all over to know that Lena would do that for her, makes her tingle with a soft glow of pulsing adoration that lights stars in the Kryptonian's tender blue eyes. It fills her chest with a deep, sweet kind of yearning that Kara doesn't know to feel confused by, so instead she just feels happy. The feeling is nice, hot and gentle like a soft breath of fire across Kara's bulletproof skin, and Kara likes it very much, likes that Lena makes her feel this way and hopes that she makes Lena feel even a fraction of it in return.

Lena is trying so hard to be accessible for Kara, to be loyal and reliable, present. She is trying so hard to show Kara that she can be a good friend, that she can be a kind and decent person if Kara will only give her the chance the prove it, the way that so few have probably done for her in the past. Kara is flattered, but she feels sad a little, too, sorrowfully wishes Lena could see that she doesn't have to try so hard, not for Kara, wishes Lena could see that Kara adores her, thinks that Lena is lovely and brilliant, compassionate, beautifully fragile and warm.

Humans are complicated when it comes to things like that, though, when it comes to _saying_ things like that, even when it's the truth, so Kara thinks it might be too early in their relationship for her to actually voice any of those words out loud. Still, Kara thinks it's safe to at least thank Lena for coming. She wants to tell her how much she appreciates that Lena would make time for her, tell her that Kara knows how busy she must be, how difficult it must have been for her to get away, and Kara tries, she tries her best, but Lena doesn't give her much of a chance.

Kara opens the front door and hardly has time to even quirk a smile before Lena begins to apologize. Lena tells Kara that she's sorry for taking so long, for making Kara wait on her. Lena laughs nervously in Kara's doorway as she explains that she had a meeting she couldn't get out of, how it took Jess weeks to schedule the video conference in the first place and how postponing it wasn't an option, otherwise she would've done that. Lena tells Kara that she would have done that for her, just because Kara had asked, and Kara believes her, can't help but believe her, because what choice does she have?

Lena is sincere, honest, her voice tremors with emotion over every word and Kara's ears echo with it, memorize it fondly as Lena begins to ramble a little. She rambles the way that Kara is swiftly growing to appreciate, rambles the way that makes Lena flush prettily and fidget, squirm all over as she tells Kara again how she is sorry, how she will be a better friend to her in the future.

She says it all like it's an instinctually crafted defense, like she thinks that Kara should be offended by Lena's methods of prioritizing and she is preemptively trying to explain herself, but Kara doesn't mind, couldn't raise an issue with that even if she wanted to, because that would hardly be fair. Kara knows that Lena has actual responsibilities to take care of before she can coddle Kara on top of everything else, too, so Kara smiles at Lena just for being with her now.

Lena doesn't see it, the brunette has her head bowed just a little too far down to notice, and her pretty blue-green eyes won't look at Kara, can't look at her, instead studiously track the worried dance of her fingers as they pirouette shyly along the label of a likely very expensive bottle of scotch.

Kara's still smiling, she's still delighted to see Lena and she wants Lena to know it, but the expression slides a little when she figures out what's happening. Kara's smile slips at its edges, lowers slightly in confusion and in mourning, because Kara's beginning to realize that this is beyond the lightly flustered behavior that she's occasionally come to expect, from Lena.

The CEO is tense, back and shoulders tight, hooked over slightly as if to make her smaller and less visible, less of a target. Lena's long, typically-graceful fingers flit constantly in nervous motion, active but aimless, and when Kara listens for it, Lena's galloping heartbeat hammers loudly, loudly, _too, too loudly_ in Kara's ears, vicious and unyielding, panicked beneath Lena's breast and blushing warmth through her cheeks in a way that Kara understands is not courtesy of pleasure, but of shame.

It looks like it's all too much for her, like this situation is foreign and Lena doesn't know how she's meant to behave, doesn't know what her next step should be or how she's meant to approach it. It looks like she is struggling to cope with something dark, something haunting and insidious, secret, like she's caving under the pressure of something black and oppressive.

Kara thinks it looks like Lena is experiencing far too much anxiety for what this interaction actually calls for, too much anxiety particularly when she's done nothing wrong to merit it. It's weighing down too hard on her, Kara thinks it's even suffocating her, closing Lena off from Kara and the rest of the world, and Kara doesn't know why Lena feels this way or how best to ease it for her, but she knows that she wants it to stop.

Kara wants Lena warm and open, soft, the way that Kara's always known her to be. Kara wants Lena to feel comfortable, wants her to feel safe here, feel safe with Kara, feel safe in Kara's home. The superhero wants Lena to feel welcome, like her presence here is cherished, and Kara thinks she's failed somehow if Lena doesn't feel that way already.

"Lena – " Kara tries, does her best to tell the brunette that she's happy just to see her and doesn't care how long it took, tries to tell her that Kara hadn't really expected her so soon, anyway, and that Lena's actually surprised Kara with her unanticipated timeliness, but it doesn't work.

"I'm- I'm new at this," Lena interrupts her suddenly, skittishly glances upward, flits a jumpy gaze to meet with Kara's before it swiftly bounces away again. "I don't- I don't have people. Not here, not- anywhere, really," Lena laughs uncomfortably at the admission, shuffles her weight over heels worth more than Kara's monthly salary, sighs with a poorly-hidden quiver. "I'm new at this, Kara, but I swear I'm trying. I want to try. For you."

She's so timid, Kara thinks, she looks so small. Lena is all but cowering in Kara's doorway, and she is brave, Lena always has to be so _brave_ , but Lena is also afraid, so fearful of rejection that she can't even look Kara in the eye. Kara knows why, understands that it's a product of Lena's upbringing that she's fought against for most of her life, knows that Lena is afraid because adopted or not, Lena was raised a Luthor, she _is_ a Luthor, and this is the kind of rejection that her name has unjustly forced Lena to expect.

The reporter's chest aches for her in a way that is tender and humbled, protective. Kara aches deep in her bones, feels her heart tremor and crack and it makes Kara want to cry, so Kara clenches her fingers tight over her palms and tries to tame the emotion into something calmer, because Lena needs that from her, right now.

It's difficult, though, it's nearly impossible for Kara to manage, because she is an alien from a scorched planet, a dead world, and Kara knows what Lena is feeling. She knows that it is something at least a little bit reminiscent of the fear and loneliness that Kara sometimes feels inside, too, and Kara doesn't need Lena to speak these words out loud to understand everything that she is saying without them.

Kara knows that it feels nice to have people, that it feels so good to find family, people you can trust and rely on to support you. Kara also knows that it is terrifying to be so dependent on others to provide that comfort, knows that it is so deeply frightening to feel that every relationship built, every emotional connection made could at any moment be stripped away because of just one delinquent move. Kara knows that it carries an impossible self-doubt into almost every interaction, knows that it is scary and consuming, intense, and Kara doesn't want that for Lena.

It isn't easy for Kara to drag herself from that headspace, for her to shake off the chill of the dark that so easily creeps into the corners of her heart if she lets it, but this time Kara doesn't, she fights it, fights it for Lena because Lena needs someone to understand and Kara _can_. Kara can do that for Lena like no one else possibly could, she is uniquely qualified for this, so as quickly as she is able, Kara gathers herself. She collects enough of her emotion to settle it, eases it on Lena's behalf until Kara can safely coil her arms tight around Lena without prompting and use the cool feel of the bottle trapped between them to keep her present, to remind her not to squeeze too hard and break the beautifully nervous creature caught within her heartening hold.

"Oh," Lena murmurs her surprise, whispers it soft and startled, warm breath washing low across Kara's collar until she trembles. "Well…" Lena clears her throat, swallows hard, stretches a tentative palm behind Kara's back but grips deceivingly hard onto her shoulder, fingers latching, pulling Kara in like she's worried the reporter might disappear if Lena isn't eager enough to reciprocate. "I suppose you aren't angry, then?" Lena exhales shakily, offers the question with caution, holds her breath and locks it in her chest as she waits for Kara's answer.

"No, Lena. I'm not angry," Kara sighs fondly into soft raven hair and hums, smells a hint of daisies and something light and crisp, sweet, like honeysuckles, breathes in deep and takes a moment to remember it, to catalog that scent as _Lena_ and associate it with comfort, with security and warmth and affection. "You smell nice," Kara shares playfully, admires the instantly renewed flush that dawns in Lena's cheeks at her words, wants to make it brighter and does her best to encourage it. "You look amazing, too. I feel underdressed in my own apartment," Kara teases with a slyly creeping grin, purposefully lauds the satisfying heat of praise over Lena to chase away the dark chill of her fear because that's what works for Kara and it's all she knows to do, and also because it's the truth. "I'm really glad you're here. Thank you for coming," she offers earnestly, retreats just far enough to smile, soothing and genuine, honest. "Would you like to come in?"

"I– Yes," Lena stammers and decides, nods once, twice as her fingers slowly drift downward, skimming lightly along Kara's back as the distance between them tries to increase.

Lena's falling hands eventually land again, unbidden and tentative, over the dip of Kara's hips, and Kara thinks that Lena doesn't even mean to catch them, doesn't mean to hold on to Kara for as long as she does and might even be embarrassed by it. Kara laughs fondly, breathy and soft, smiles soothingly and tries to show Lena that it's okay, that Kara doesn't mind, that she knows Lena isn't ready to lose the contact yet and that Kara is happy to hold the CEO for as long as Lena needs, and Kara presses her palms into Lena's shoulders, tight and grounding, solid, just to make sure Lena gets the message.

Lena lets her, stands still in Kara's doorway for long minutes with a couple inches of space between them as they hold onto each other and breathe, don't let go. They're not close, exactly, no closer than one might need to be for a handshake, but Kara thinks it's intimate. Kara thinks relating to another person this way, this deeply, and using any form of touch to communicate it is nearly as intimate as two people can be.

Those are the thoughts of an alien, Kara knows. She's learned through trial and error and a lot of confusing, broken relationships that humans perceive intimacy differently than she does, sometimes. Kara thinks they make it too complicated, thinks they put too much weight on the word and not enough on what it means or how it feels or who they're sharing it with and it makes no sense to her, but Lena is looking at her wide-eyed and grateful, gorgeously bemused like she feels it, too, and all Kara can think is that this is the most intimacy she's felt since Cat's lips had scraped the edge of hers two months ago.

"Yes, I'd like to come in," Lena eventually announces softly, laughs with relief, a light shuffle of her shoulders beneath Kara's grip as the tension flees from them with a sigh.

Kara tightens her fingers one last time before she turns, makes it her mission to set Lena at ease in her home. She invites the CEO in, allows Lena to collect herself at a bar stool in Kara's kitchen as the superhero sets out to mix the French onion dip and tells Lena about the types of games they normally play, for game night.

Lena is quiet, at least at first, curious eyes peeking around Kara's apartment as she listens, laughs on cue and nods along. She needs a minute, Kara thinks, she isn't ready to talk quite yet, not really, but that's okay. Kara can fill the silence, she's good at that, has always been good at it because there is so much about this planet that Kara thinks is marvelous and strange and weird, even years after her landing, and she likes to share it with others, likes to learn what they think of the world that they live in even if they've never known anything different.

It's taken most of Kara's life on Earth to learn what's appropriate to mention and what isn't. Alex has chastised her for risking her cover more times than Kara could count, and that doesn't even include the harsh words Eliza and Jeremiah had spoken on the subject in her youth, but Kara knows how to navigate society now. She has learned from countless meetings and events and galas with Cat how to make educated small talk and engage others in interesting conversation, has learned how to tactfully fulfil her own inquisitive needs even with the restricted viewpoint of the other party, so Kara doesn't mind that Lena needs to take a step back, for a moment. Kara can fill the silence, she's good at that.

She keeps the discussion light, prattles on about her new article and Snapper's general mulishness, tells Lena a joke Winn mentioned a few weeks ago and grins, wide and proud, when the nerdy Superman punchline makes Lena snort in surprise, cover elegant fingers over her mouth and blush all over again. The CEO takes her time, but she eventually opens up, albeit slowly.

Lena spreads her elbow over the countertop, leans her chin into her palm and watches Kara as she moves, grabs chips and crackers and bags of popcorn from the pantry. Lena's smile eases, becomes genuine, effortless, the way that Kara adores, and when Kara thinks she's calmed enough, she accepts Lena's bottle of scotch and pours her a healthy glass. She asks for Lena's participation in the conversation as she goes, thinks it's time to drag Lena a little further out of her own head, so she poses her next accusation mock-sternly and smiles so that Lena knows she's only teasing.

"You know, I did buy tequila."

"Kara," Lena begins playfully, shakes her head as Kara's body lights cheerfully with the electric, now-familiar hum that typically consumes her every time Lena says her name that way, like, for just an instant, Kara is all that matters to her, "you realize that tequila is almost unanimously considered to be the trashiest of all liquors?"

Kara shrugs, because she's heard similar things from Alex and Lucy, from most women she's ever encountered, frankly, but Kara isn't affected by human liquors, and from personal observation, tequila is the most fun to watch people drink. Kara is intrigued by it, wants to know why tequila specifically stimulates people in a more emotional and physical, often sexual way than other liquors generally are able to touch, has asked Eliza to perform formal evaluations on the subject but has always been denied. Kara's interest is piqued, so when she's responsible for selecting the alcohol, Kara always chooses that one in an effort to satisfy her scientific curiosity.

She isn't allowed to explain that, though, isn't able to share with Lena something as silly as why tequila is Kara's first choice because that would mean explaining to Lena who Kara really is, where Kara really comes from, and it isn't time for that yet, it's too early. Kara wants to, but it's still too soon, she knows, so Kara redirects Lena instead. She tries not to feel guilty for hiding something from her when Lena is blindly trusting Kara with so much of herself, so much of her heart that it causes Lena to cower in Kara's doorway when Lena feels that she has failed her.

"Yeah, I guess Luthors are too classy for trashy," Kara rolls her eyes and laughs at herself, sets Lena's glass on the countertop in front of her and holds onto it until Lena reaches forward, fingers grazing shyly along Kara's as she lifts it for a sip.

"Mm," Lena hums, tips her head in consideration, shrugs and mentions uncomfortably, "well, I've been told I'm not much of a Luthor at all, really, so I'm not sure that has much to do with it," she laughs.

It's gentle, and Lena smiles as she says it, but it's a false pleasure and Kara can tell, it doesn't light in her eyes the way that Kara knows it should. That's okay, though, Kara thinks, because Kara can fend off Lena's insecurity for a while longer, too.

"Sure," Kara nods in faux-agreement, pokes her head into the freezer and uses a quick burst of superspeed to take a shot of her own liquor while her body blocks Lena's view. "Although I'm not sure how seriously I can take your argument. Look at what you're drinking!" Kara insists mirthfully, turns from the fridge with a block of cheese in her hand and pulls a knife from the drawer to begin cutting slices. "That bottle of scotch you're drinking probably cost more than my rent, and I have to tell you, it's sort of screaming class, Lee," Kara teases with a fake-scandalized whisper that makes Lena laugh, abrupt and surprised, smile at Kara with wonder in her smile and a sort of heat in her eyes that Kara wants to see more of.

Lena lilts her glass in Kara's direction, sweeps a thoughtful tongue across pretty, deep red lips and Kara swallows, follows its path with her eyes and a new curiosity coiling tight in her chest. "Alright, Kara, you've made your point," Lena shakes her head on the fading ends of a chuckle, but the sadness in her blue and green irises lingers, clouds the color in a way that Kara doesn't like.

Kara sighs, soft and gentle, sets the cheese block and the knife down a careful distance away, and moves toward Lena. She leans her elbows against the counter, bends at the waist overtop of it and meets Lena's cautiously intrigued gaze with a burning one of her own. They're close, Kara's done that on purpose because she wants Lena to understand, wants Lena to see that what Kara says next is genuine, that she means it.

"Your family is– They're horrible, Lena," she tells her slowly, blinks wide blue eyes and shakes her head when Lena lowers her own in shame, reaches out and sweeps two, tender fingers beneath the CEO's chin to capture her attention again.

Lena follows Kara's guidance blindly, looks up with timid eyes and a strained furrow of her brow that tells Kara she is confused, uncertain, maybe even afraid, but Kara smiles at her anyway, confident and sure.

"To most of the world, your family is horrible," Kara tells her again, honest and resolute, "but you are _good,_ Lena," she swears, closes her eyes a moment after and rustles her shoulders in frustration, because that isn't enough, it's not enough to explain what Kara means.

"You are good," Kara tells Lena again, sighs with relief when she opens her eyes to find Lena glowing a bright shade of red that Kara isn't sure she's ever seen her wear before, and Kara thinks Lena might understand her even if Kara isn't articulating herself well.

Kara's still going to try, though. She is a reporter, she can find the words if she searches long enough, if she tells the truth and tries hard enough, Cat has taught her that. Kara is still going to try, she is going to do her best to find the right words because Lena deserves to hear them, Lena needs to hear them, and because Kara wants to be the person Lena hears them from.

"You are good and kind and- and so _smart,_ " Kara breathes in wonder and sincerity. "You might have learned how to be all of those things in spite of your family, Lena, but they are still your family, they're still where you come from, and they still helped to make you into who you are, even if they did that in the worst possible way. You are a _Luthor,_ Lena, and I- I get why you feel that you need to make amends for that, I do," Kara insists, because she does understand.

Kara knows that her own mother had done some questionable things and that Kara is still working to clean up the mess that all of the Fort Rozz prisoners have created in the wake of her decisions, knows that this is the most notable legacy that her mother has left behind and cringes upon remembering it. Kara knows that her father had created something capable of destroying entire races, knows that it was one of his last contributions to science before Krypton met its end. Supergirl might mean something to National City, perhaps even to the world, but Kara was born to a planet far away, she's witnessed half the galaxy, and she knows that in the grand scheme of things, the House of El has been tarnished by her family's work more than Supergirl can possibly make up for.

Kara understands why Lena wants to better the name of her House, Kara can immediately relate, but she needs Lena to understand that this is a safe space for her, that Lena has nothing to prove in this, not to Kara, not in Kara's home.

"But you don't _always_ have to feel like that," Kara tells her exasperatedly and laughs, because Kara understands better than anyone what it means to mourn and hate and also revere something that is lost and too far gone to save, anyway, understands what it means to be the only one left. "You're allowed to- to have a good memory of when you were a child, you're allowed to miss your brother, sometimes, or- or be sad that Lillian was never the mother to you that she should have been. You were raised in that house, you have an entire childhood of memories from that family, Lena, and it's- it's okay that you're like them, a little bit. It's okay that you have a little class and that they taught you to manage a business, it's okay that you are cultured the way that they raised you to be and it's okay to sometimes hate them for the disaster that they've left you to deal with. It's _easier_ if you hate them, Lena," Kara murmurs earnestly and sighs, reaches her palm across the counter to stroke a pretty strand of raven hair behind Lena's ear as the CEO watches her with wide, wet eyes and a tremble at her lips, "but it's okay if you still love them, sometimes, too," Kara whispers it and hums, spies a tear at the corner of Lena's eye, but does her best to ignore it for the sake of Lena's pride and fails.

Instead, Kara leans forward to brush her lips against it when the tiny droplet of salt and anguish crawls over the slope of Lena's pinkened cheek, fondly thumbs the shell of Lena's ear, does her best to silently and repeatedly, sweetly assure, _I understand, I've got you, I will protect you, show me who you are._

Humans are complicated when it comes to things like that, though, when it comes to _saying_ things like that, even when it's the truth. Kara knows this, has learned it time and time again and it isn't a lesson that Kara wants to repeat with Lena, this isn't a friendship Kara is willing risk. She blinks at the tears in her own eyes and turns, gives both Lena and herself a moment to collect themselves, laughs and lets it slide when Lena wipes delicately at her face to clear it and impishly asks if Kara ever seriously considered psychiatry for a career.

Kara never wanted to be a psychiatrist, but Kara likes that she knows Lena well enough to fool the CEO into thinking that she could have been one.


	5. Chapter Four: The Advice of a Friend

_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the delayed update. This chapter is pretty important, so I tried to do it justice. Let me know what you think of it!

* * *

Game night begins and ends with more tension than Kara would like, and she'd started off expecting it in spades.

James is immediately wary of Lena and isn't shy about showing it, approaches the CEO with the same, skeptical unacceptance that Kara might have anticipated of her cousin, if she'd chosen to invite him along. Kara isn't surprised, James often adopts Kal-El's points of view even without good reason and it's something she's noticed before, but it ignites a vicious flame of fury inside of her stomach regardless, makes Kara feel protective and mean, offended on Lena's behalf.

Lena makes no attempt to dodge his vitriol, merely accepts James's passive aggressive demeanor with a cool smile, a hard-edged spine, and an aggravated little twitch of her fingers that only Kara knows to look for. The motion itself is small, just a tiny, errant tell, but Kara's spent enough time with Lena to know that her upset and frustration are mounting, can see that a cold, aloof mask is rising briskly to the surface to protect Lena's preciously fragile heart, and all of it only serves to make Kara even angrier.

Winn is kind as usual, awkward and overeager, clumsily endearing. The IT specialist introduces himself to Lena readily, a couple of improvement suggestions for L-Corp's newest projects hot on the tip of his tongue, but James hardly gives him the opportunity to voice them. Instead, Winn spends much of the first hour trying his best to make James's criticisms lighthearted, tries to turn it all into a joke, but Kara sees through it and so does everyone else. It isn't Winn's fault, Kara knows, but she wishes he would stop, thinks he's only making things worse and more obvious, more difficult for Lena to ignore.

This isn't new for the CEO, Kara acknowledges sorrowfully. Lena navigates gracefully through these kinds of hate-filled interactions on a disconcertingly regular basis, has learned to let most of it slick off her back like oil taking to water, at least until she is alone, when every word crawls beneath beautifully pale skin just to haunt Lena like ghosts in the corners of her own home. Kara knows that her new friend is strong, knows that, publicly, Lena is more than capable of handling herself and doesn't need anyone to fight her battles for her, but none of that knowledge stops Kara from wanting to try.

Kara wants to show Lena that she isn't alone, show her that she has someone now who is willing to go to bat for her, who will stand up for her and at her side, if that's what Lena wants. Kara needs Lena to know that she deserves better than this, needs her to know that she is allowed to _expect_ better, and that Kara would be delighted to help her achieve it.

And, right now, Kara really wants to begin with James Olsen.

Kara wants to scold him, wants to hiss and scowl and savagely snarl her way through this sudden bout of outrage. Kara wants to tell James to back off and cool down, remind him that Lena is in _Kara's_ home, at _Kara's_ request, and that he has no right to make her feel unwelcome when Kara's spent the better part of the last hour convincing the Luthor otherwise. Kara wants to caution him, advise James to watch both his tone and his behavior very carefully in Lena's presence, but most especially in Kara's, because the superhero's patience with him is dwindling at a startlingly rapid rate.

Kara tries her best to refrain, knows that it's a bad idea, that it will only serve to sour the evening further, but it takes effort, takes Kara digging her fingernails into her own palms so forcefully that they tremble against the weight of her wrath, and even that doesn't feel like enough. Alex helps when it starts to overwhelm her, though, knowingly skims her fingers along Kara's quaking arms to settle her, casual and soft, politely redirects and asks how Lena is settling into the city.

Alex isn't exactly friendly, but she's as neutral as she can be, calm, an eye in the storm, for Kara, and once again the superhero is awed by her.

This doesn't come naturally for Alex, Kara knows. The DEO agent has her own reservations about Lena, suspects that Kara has invested more trust in the youngest Luthor than Alex thinks is safe for her, but Alex is trying for Kara, does her best to be openminded, no matter what tensions might be clouding their relationship right now. Alex knows that this is important to Kara, knows that _Lena_ is important to her, and for now, Alex is prepared to learn a little more about her before she declares judgment.

Kara feels so much loving gratitude toward her sister in that moment she thinks she might cry, feels it flourish in her chest so broadly that her fingers uncoil and the violent pace of her heart begins to slow. The feeling spreads even wider when Lena shyly glances blue-green eyes toward her own, tentatively seeks the blonde's approval after the CEO tells Alex that Kara has made the transition to National City much easier than Lena had dared to hope.

The sweetness, the innocuous softness of Lena's tenuous look makes Kara smile, makes her flush with satisfaction and pride and warmth. Kara loves that she is able to help Lena adjust to her new home and profession, loves the deep sincerity she can hear threading through Lena's words, but Kara also recognizes that Lena is sharing this with Alex for a reason. Lena wants the DEO agent to see for herself how genuinely Lena cares for Kara, to see how Lena appreciates her. Lena is nervous, wants Alex to like her, knows well how much she means to Kara and wants to make a good impression, and Kara feels so full of tenderness she could burst.

The superhero beams at Lena in reply, nods her earnest encouragement, fondly wraps her fingers over the curve of the Luthor's slim wrist and squeezes, earns a soft, flatteringly pink blush and a near-silent, tremoring exhale of relief for her trouble.

Kara eases away a little after that, steps into the kitchen to sneak another shot, and also to keep from hovering too cloyingly, trusting Alex to keep the situation under control until she gets back. Lucy trails along behind her, unusually quiet until now, but Kara thinks she's been observing, keeping to herself because it's safer than engaging in another fight with James. Lucy is typically bold and impulsive, does most things just for the fun of it and for no other reason at all, but she is also smart, has learned through years of confrontation with her father and sister and any number of lawyers that sometimes the best thing you can do is to just keep your mouth shut.

Lucy's silence doesn't last long, though, lasts only until the two of them have gained enough distance from the others before she nudges into Kara's side, teasing and mischievous, playfully inquires how helpful Kara's been, _exactly_ , to turn Lena Luthor into such an impressive puddle of submissive goo. The word strikes Kara as important, the context feels odd, makes Kara furrow her brows in bemusement and frown. She knows the definition, knows what it means, but Kara doesn't think that Lena is _subservient_ to anyone, wouldn't want her to be and feels mildly offended by the insinuation that she's done something to make Lena behave that way.

"How do you mean?" Kara asks guardedly, pours another glass of scotch for Lena because Kara thinks she needs it, snags an extra one for Alex, too, hopeful Lena will forgive her for taking the liberty.

"Puppy," Lucy laughs airily and shakes her head, makes Kara's lips curl softly at the affectionate pet name, reaches into the freezer and helps herself to the tequila before swiping a lime from the counter, "Lena Luthor's face is everywhere, all over the city, _all the time._ I've watched dozens of her interviews and I've never seen so much as a genuine _smile_ underneath all of that ice, but two seconds of eye contact and a brush of the hand from you has her blushing? Are you kidding?"

"I'm still- not really sure what you're trying to say?"

Kara really isn't, doesn't understand what Lucy means at all, why she mentions this in private so playfully like it's something scandalous, something worthy of gossip. Kara likes that Lena responds to her so openly, likes that Lena's smile reaches all the way up to her eyes when Kara makes her laugh, likes that she makes Lena feel wanted instead of ostracized. Kara's adored all of those things in Lena, has spent hours wondering how to do that for her over and over and over again, doesn't want that tainted by whatever Lucy is trying to imply.

"Your alien is showing, Kara," Lucy smiles fondly and sighs, slices a kitchen knife into the lime to cut out a wedge, gently begins to explain. "Look, sometimes- sometimes people have certain- _preferences._ You know?"

"No," Kara blinks owlishly in reply and shrugs, smiles sheepishly at Lucy's immediate, exasperatedly affectionate glance.

"Sometimes people are a little- adventurous, when it comes to romance," Lucy tries again. "Or just sex," she elaborates bluntly, and Kara is thankful, thinks that she could use Lucy's characteristic honesty right now and hopes there's more of it to come. "And sometimes, there's a little bit of power play. Sometimes one partner- likes to take control, more than the other, and sometimes it's the other way around."

"Okay…" Kara bites into her bottom lip and thinks, contemplatively lilts her head to the right, does her best to apply Lucy's words to Lena. "So, you think that Lena likes to… _not_ have control? Romantically? Or sexually?"

"Well," Lucy smirks and shrugs, downs her shot, nips gently into her lime before pouring another drink and breezily offers, "if that's something you're interested in dabbling with, Kara, I think it might be worth asking about. She's definitely showing signs."

"What do the signs looks like?" Kara wonders inquisitively.

"You know," Lucy shrugs again, gleefully presents a grin and meaningfully suggests, "they look a lot like _every_ interaction you and Cat ever shared, at least while I was around. I honestly would've pegged you as an outright sub, Kara, but it looks a little like you might be willing to switch for Little Luthor, in there."

"What?" Kara squeaks and stammers, flushes red and falters, but knows the instant she asks the question exactly what Lucy means.

She and Cat had never been _romantic,_ much less _sexual_ – not that Kara is at all opposed to the notion, would in fact be flattered to honor Cat's grace and gorgeously slim figure in such an intimate manner, if given half the chance – but Kara can see why Lucy would think that she is submissive to her, even if Kara can't fully comprehend the nuances of the word when applied to this sort of context. Kara's mused on it herself, has listened to Alex berate her for years on how completely eager Kara is to meet Cat's near-impossible demands. Kara doesn't always understand why it's such a big deal to Alex, doesn't always know why it makes her sister so anxious when it only makes Kara feel full of heat and pride to know that she's done well for Cat, to feel exclusively capable of satisfying the older woman's needs.

Then again, Kara considers dolefully, that's the power she's surrendered to Cat, the same power that's left Kara in such a dark place to begin with, because Kara isn't sure that Cat knows she even has it, that Kara had given it to her with the expectation that Cat could be relied upon to wield it accordingly. Kara hadn't asked, she knows, that's her own fault, but it occurs to Kara that this kind of power play can be dangerous, can hurt people the way that Kara feels hurt, and if Lena is trying to offer Kara something similar, then Kara needs to know about it.

Kara would be glad to take all that Lena is willing to give – amicably, romantically _or_ sexually, depending on the Luthor's preference – but Kara doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want Lena to ever feel the way that Kara does, doesn't want to take advantage of Lena's offering the way that Kara sometimes, grudgingly, feels that Cat has done to her. Lena is beautiful and soft, warm beneath all those layers of ice that Lucy claims to see in her, perfect and fragile. If Lena is giving Kara the power to break her, if Kara's missed that exchange, somehow, then Kara needs to know how to keep her safe and happy, how to make Lena feel secure, and cared for, how to keep her whole.

The superhero doesn't see Lucy's knowing smile, nor the soft shake of her head or her departure. Instead, Kara gnaws gently into her lower lip and thinks, wonders if she can keep Lena in her home a little longer after everyone leaves, thinks they need to talk and clarify exactly what Lena expects from Kara, or decide if Lucy Lane just has no idea what she's talking about.

Guiltily, Kara hopes the latter isn't true. Kara craves intimacy, craves the deep, solemn intricacy of it, would love nothing more than to share that with Lena and show her, demonstrate for the youngest Luthor what it means to be so completely adored and to feel it in a wash of hot breath across her skin.

Abruptly flushed and with a cavernous ache growing in the depths of her lower stomach, Kara clears her throat and shakes off the slight tremor of her palms, grabs the drinks she poured what feels like an age ago and dutifully moves toward the living room to deliver them.

* * *

Kara spends much of the night distracted, but does her best to engage, smile and entertain, thinks she does a fair job of it because Alex smiles and laughs, too, even with Lena, and seems appeased by Kara's performance. James continues to irritate Kara, keeps making mumbled cheap shots in regard to Lena's integrity, but Kara glowers in his general direction, smooths her palm reassuringly at the base of Lena's spine, and does her best to ignore him.

Still, Kara is relieved when her guests begin rustle and head home, sleepy from the drinks and food after three rounds of Uno, a game of Jenga, and a competitive bout of Trivial Pursuit. Kara subtly snags Lena's palm with her own, tightens her fingers and murmurs a quiet, _"Please stay. Just for a while?"_ and Lena blushes but smiles fondly, nods and remains seated on Kara's couch while she bids the others goodbye.

Kara hugs Alex tight and whispers her sincerest thanks, grins when Alex huffs, tucks a strand of blond hair behind Kara's ear and reluctantly admits that the youngest Luthor doesn't seem so bad. The superhero rolls her eyes at Lucy's challenging smirk, shoves her lightly out the door to a loud peal of laughter from the talented lawyer, waves at Winn and scowls when James moves in for a hug. He's confused, but Kara doesn't care, doesn't understand why he can't recognize how rude he'd been, how unwelcoming. She isn't exactly interested in explaining it to him, though, doesn't have the patience or the time, right now, so she closes the door in his face with nothing but a frown and retreats to her living room.

By the time Kara reaches it, Lena's heels are neatly paired on the floor, the brunette curled cozily in the corner of the superhero's couch, nursing a fresh glass of scotch. Kara feels warm all over, likes the look of Lena like this, tired and relaxed, likes that Lena is waiting for her so tolerantly and knows that it's okay to make herself comfortable in Kara's absence.

"Hi," Kara smiles broadly and laughs, delights in the soft sparkle of pleasure and mirth in her eyes as she returns Kara's quiet chuckle.

"Hi," Lena offers affectionately, pats her hand at the back of the couch with a hopeful question in her pretty blue-green gaze and tips her head, watches Kara to see if the superhero will sit down with her.

"I wanted to apologize," Kara swipes her tongue across her lower lip nervously, moves to accept Lena's invitation and lowers herself onto the cushions, close to Lena, close enough to feel the intoxicating heat of her, but not close enough to touch. "James was- _completely_ out of line, tonight," Kara swallows, shakes her head, sighs and murmurs regretfully, "and you shouldn't have had to put up with that. I'm sorry."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned, Kara," Lena says with a blasé shrug, "but it's nothing I haven't heard before. Besides, you shouldn't apologize on his behalf. James Olsen is a grown man, he can make his own apologies, if he feels the need – which I frankly doubt," she scoffs lightly, takes a sip from her drink, nudges her toes gently into Kara's thigh when the blonde rustles aggravatedly and huffs.

"I know that," Kara tells her with a heavy roll of the eyes. "But I was the one who invited you, and I didn't think– I should have, I guess, but I didn't think James would do that. You don't deserve it, and I would've uninvited him if I'd known he was going to act like such a jerk."

" _Kara,"_ Lena insists with a soft smile, sets her drink down against the coffee table and assures, "it isn't your fault. I had a wonderful time, and I'm glad you allowed me to join you. _Thank you."_

Kara senses the genuineness in Lena's words, nods slowly and hesitates, pulls in a slow, deep breath for courage and says earnestly, "There was something else I wanted to talk with you about."

"Oh?" Lena inquires curiously, a thin brow rising to indicate her interest.

"Yeah," Kara nods. "Something Lucy said made me think," she begins carefully, lowers her head to ignore the general distraction of _Lena,_ tries her hardest to make sure the words come out right. "She said that you seemed- well, _submissive_ was the word she used, and – "

Lena chokes abruptly and cuts Kara off, jolts upward and plants her feet on the floor to lean forward, open the passage between lungs and throat. Kara frowns in swift concern, tentatively pats the Luthor's back, coos quietly until Lena draws in a long, uninterrupted breath to signify her recovery.

"Are you okay?" Kara worries, lifts one leg to the couch to turn toward Lena and softly palms her shoulder, rubs tenderly and waits for Lena's reassurance.

"Fine," Lena blushes, laughs, stilted and awkward, dodges Kara's searching gaze. "I'm fine, Kara. You startled me, is all."

"I'm sorry," Kara tells her earnestly, smiles ruefully, wonders how best to do this or if she should even continue at all. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Lena, and I know this is pretty personal. I just- I think this is important. Maybe Lucy's wrong, maybe she's seeing things or making things up because she thinks it's funny when I squirm, but- but if she's right, then I think it's important for us to talk about it."

Lena swallows, thick and heavy, stalls, absently wiggles her toes deeper into the carpet, but leans closer into Kara's touch, searching, eager for the contact, and takes a deep breath before she nods.

"I'm embarrassed," Lena confesses meekly, "but Lucy- isn't wrong. At least, I don't think she is. It's not- This isn't something that I've really felt, before now, Kara. Wondered about, maybe," she sighs and nods, shrugs weakly. "But it's not something I've ever wanted to try, before National City. Before you," Lena whispers breathlessly, anxiously flits her eyes to finally, finally meet with Kara's, and Kara does her best to show Lena warmth, acceptance, show her that Kara is open to it, show her that Kara appreciates her honesty, and her bravery. "I've never trusted anyone else, before you," Lena tells her, unguarded and pure, so sincere that Kara's chest aches, feels too small for the tender, blossoming emotion inside.

"Thank you," Kara tells her first and elaborates. "For trusting me. That's a _gift,_ Lena, and it's one that I don't want to abuse, okay? That's the whole point of this, of us talking about this," Kara says, tries her best, tries to let Lena know that Kara is grateful but needs to be careful, with Lena, thinks it might help if Kara explained why. "I think- I think I know what that feels like. I think it's a lot like the way I feel for Cat, sometimes, but Cat and I- we never had a conversation like this one, and now I think that maybe we should have, that maybe it's a conversation she and I are going to have this week, a lot later than it should have happened.

"When she left, I was devastated, Lee," Kara admits shamefully and sighs, offers a tired and aching smile, lets her pain and hurt surface long enough for Lena to see it, to prove to the youngest Luthor that she has nothing to fear, not from Kara, prove that Kara could never criticize her for feeling this way. "I still feel lost without her. She used to guide me, I used to- to take pride in doing as she asked, in making her happy, and I think I gave her too much, gave her too much of myself without thinking, without knowing if she wanted that from me.

"I don't– Lena, I don't want that to happen to you," Kara rasps emotionally, slides her fingers down along Lena's bicep, across the bend of her elbow and the smooth span of her forearm, ends at the tips of Lena's fingers and squeezes against them, soft and pleading. "I don't ever want to make you feel like you're giving more than you're getting in return. Not from me. I'm flattered that you trust me this way, I'm- I'm kind of excited to figure out how this kind of thing works, with you, but- I need to make sure that you're happy, and safe. I need to make sure that you're getting everything you need from me, Lee, and to do that, I need to know exactly _what_ you need. This is new for me, too, and I know that some of it we might have to learn along the way, but that means we have to be willing to talk about it, to check in with each other and make sure we're both on the same page. Is that- is that something that you're open to?"

Lena's eyes are wide, brimming with awe and affection and a bemused sort of giddiness. Kara thinks that means yes, yes Lena _is_ open to exploring this broad emotional connection and using their words to muddle through a new experience together, but she isn't sure until the CEO lurches forward, twines her arms around Kara's neck and pulls so swift and hard that Kara's startled enough to succumb to the pressure.

The superhero's arms furl around Lena's lower back, hold the trembling brunette as closely as Kara can drag her. She breathes her in and hums contently into soft, raven hair, feels Lena, warm and solid, pressed against her, all curves and pliant skin, and does her best to remember it, to store every detail of this embrace in her memory. Kara swallows, hopes Lena isn't about to vanish from her grasp, because if this is something they're going to try, then there's something else that Lena needs to know, something important.

Something Super.


	6. Chapter Five: Down the Rabbit Hole

_Author's Note:_ This chapter is a little bit shorter, but some fun stuff happens, so let me know what you think, please!

* * *

Lena doesn't stay the night.

She would, Kara feels pretty sure of that, but Kara doesn't ask. The superhero _wants_ to, wants to hold Lena and touch Lena and learn the taste of her gorgeously pale skin, press her mouth into the gentle curve of Lena's jaw and flutter her tongue across those delightful little dimples in her smile. Kara wants Lena Luthor curled up like a kitten in her bed, warm and soft, sweet, purring prettily under Kara's rapturous attention, but as lovely as the fantasy might be, it isn't smart to go there so soon.

Kara and Alex are already standing on tenuous ground and Kara doesn't want to make it worse, she misses her sister and only tonight started to feel like the rift between them had finally begun to heal. Kara knows she's about to rip it wide open again, knows that Alex will practically spit fire the moment Kara tells her that Lena Luthor is about to join Kara's little band of Superfriends, but Kara thinks that her sister still deserves to be prepared, knows the DEO will have to gather all of the paperwork and swear Lena to secrecy, and Kara can at least give them a little time, this go around.

The superhero is still learning, still doing her best to manage her responsibilities the best way she knows how. Kara's made her share of mistakes and will probably make some more along the way, but that's no reason to keep making them when Kara knows better, knows how agitated the DEO gets when Kara springs things like this on them without warning. Besides, giving Alex a heads up might even serve as proof that Kara isn't being impulsive, might show Alex (and hopefully Hank) that Kara has genuinely thought this through, and Kara will take even the potential of an advantage from wherever she can get it.

That's not the only reason Kara doesn't invite Lena to stay, though, and Kara ruefully admits that she doesn't even think it's the biggest one. The truth is that Kara isn't exactly sure what she and Lena had just agreed to, still doesn't really understand what all of this power exchange looks like in a sexual framework, and Kara wouldn't even know where to begin with Lena tonight.

Kara needs to do some research, needs a little bit of background and context before she and Lena can really dive into a conversation of needs and desires. The superhero refuses to walk into this blind, wants to do this _right_ , for Lena, wants to make sure Lena knows that her trust hasn't been misplaced, and Kara isn't equipped to offer that, yet.

Still, when she walks Lena to the door and catches the quiet, rejected gleam of disappointment in Lena's beautiful blue-green eyes, spies the soft frown at the edge of her mouth before Lena turns her head to hide it, Kara smiles adoringly and sweeps her palm beneath Lena's jaw. Her skin is smooth, pliant, dips pleasantly beneath the gentle encouragement of Kara's thumb and forefinger as she coaxes Lena's gaze back onto her own.

Kara doesn't say anything for a long moment, but it isn't by choice. She knows that Lena is curious and apprehensive, knows that she is waiting on Kara's next words, and Kara is trying her hardest to come up with some but she really can't think of any, can't think about anything except the temptation of Lena's painted lips, full and red, can't think about anything except how soft they might feel beneath her own. The Luthor's eyes are glowing with anticipation, cheeks bright and charmingly pink, and Kara can hear the escalating pulse of Lena's heart racing through her superpowered ears like thunder chasing after lightning in a storm, and –

"I'd like to kiss you," Kara tells her rashly, breathy and quiet. "Would you like that, Lena?"

Lena honest-to-Rao _whimpers_ , needy, startled and perfect, and Kara laughs her adoration but waits, waits until Lena tries to nod with her chin still gently clipped by Kara's fingers.

"Tell me?" Kara requests warmly, patiently, because Kara doesn't mean to be cruel, she knows what Lena wants, but Kara is big on the concept of consent and she doesn't want there to be any grey area in this, wants to make sure that Lena is comfortable with everything Kara does from this point forward.

"Please," Lena exhales slow and hard. "Yes, please, Kara. I'd like that very much," she confesses, eyes ducking left with shyness and maybe a soft touch of embarrassment.

Kara hums her gratitude and sighs, nuzzles her forehead into Lena's temple and drops a tender flutter of a kiss to the corner of her eye, mimics it at the rise of Lena's cheek. Kara is gentle with her, slow and easy and fond. She feels Lena sink a little further into her with each press of mouth to skin, feels Lena inch closer and closer until the CEO's fingers brace themselves at Kara's shoulders, until Lena is practically boneless and Kara is all the supports her, and then Kara kisses her properly. She lowers her mouth to Lena's as she nudges the Luthor against the door, raises a palm to it to steady herself because Kara feels alight with euphoria and energy and sunlight and doesn't trust herself to hold onto Lena fully without breaking her.

Lena kisses like they're dancing, kisses like Kara has taken the lead and Lena is thrilled to just follow along flawlessly. She minds Kara's pace, lets Kara's tongue swipe leisurely at her bottom lip and parts her mouth for her, sighs heatedly when Kara nips that same lower lip between her teeth before accepting Lena's invitation. Kara moans at the taste of her, at the feel of Lena's generous breasts rising and falling against her own, shuffles a little closer to match her hips to Lena's, too, and almost cries in delight when it makes Lena gasp a scraping little noise of pleasure into Kara's mouth.

It's wonderful, it's hot and deep and intimate in that way that Kara so often craves, but it's also too much. This kiss is too tempting, makes Kara feel a lot like asking Lena to stay the night with her, after all, so she pulls away slowly, drags her tongue over the roof of Lena's mouth and flicks the back of her teeth, deliberate and a little bit filthy. Lena whines from the back of her throat, tries to chase Kara's mouth as she recedes, but Kara chuckles warmly, holds her in place with the fingers still resting at Lena's chin and presses a long, affectionate kiss into the frown that dips between Lena's eyes as those full, red lips fall into a succulent pout.

"I'm glad you were able to come tonight," Kara whispers earnestly against her skin and smiles, feels it spread wider as Lena hums a quiet noise of incredulity and mirth into her neck. "Thank you," Kara tells her, anyway. "And thank you for– well, for this," she beams and glances down between them, laughs when Lena stammers.

"Kara, I– " Lena shakes her head softly, laughs helplessly, disbelievingly at herself and tries again. "Believe me," she insists with a softened, sweeter blush in her cheeks and a wondrous gratitude in the coyness of her smile, "the pleasure has been mine."

And, oh, Kara likes that very much, likes the idea of giving Lena pleasure and then giving her _more,_ even likes the way the word sounds with a quiet hint of an accent as the 'r' rolls off Lena's tongue.

"Not completely," Kara smirks just a little and laughs when Lena swats gently at her shoulder, despite the way her eyes light up when Kara implies that she's enjoyed herself. "Get home safely, Lee. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Goodnight, Kara," Lena tells her with a small, affectionate smile.

"G'night, Lena," Kara sighs softly in return, presses a last kiss to Lena's cheek before opening the door and allowing Lena to slip away.

* * *

Kara likes the internet. As far as Earth technologies go, it's an extremely advanced tool, and Kara understands how to work it better than she lets on. Partly, she does it because Winn is awfully proud of his skill in the IT field and Kara doesn't want to take that away from him, wants him to have the thing that he's good at, wants him to enjoy that people need him for it. For the most part, though, Kara had always been taught not to draw attention to herself, which meant that Kara had never really been _allowed_ to demonstrate too much skill, particularly not where technology was concerned.

Still, as comparatively primitive as the internet might be to some of Krypton's scientific advances, even Kara can admit that it is sometimes overwhelming.

She spends all of Saturday hopping down a rabbit hole that begins with a Google search of 'power dynamics in relationships' and ends with sixteen open tabs on Kara's laptop and probably a virus or two. She watches more porn than she thinks she even knew existed, reads dozens upon dozens of dirty stories – some fictional and some not – that make her wet between the thighs, and Kara feels dizzy when she lands on a page full of nothing but sex toys and full descriptions of their purposes, wonders why anyone would ever want to wear a hood like that when Kara feels like she can't breathe just _looking_ at the thing.

Kara feels like she's bitten off more than she can chew, decides it's time for a break and closes the lid of her laptop while she orders two large pizzas, flops tensely onto the couch and turns on a _Supernatural_ rerun while she waits. Kara is distracted, chews anxiously into her bottom lip for a while before she huffs at herself, grabs her phone and drags up Lena's text thread.

It takes a while for Kara to figure out what she wants to say, but she thinks it's best to start simple. Kara needs to know if this is still something Lena is interested in, if this is still something she trusts Kara enough to try with, and she needs to make sure that it is before she asks Lena about anything else.

 _Are we still on the same page from last night?_

Kara expects to wait a while. Lena does her best to reply as swiftly as she's able, Kara knows, but there's often a delay when Lena has meetings or a lot of work to catch up on, and even if it's Saturday, Kara knows that the Luthor's work never ends. Kara expects to wait, but is instead pleasantly surprised when Lena's response is both quick and eager.

 _Yes._

It's a good answer, Kara knows, but it isn't a very comprehensive or inclusive one, which is probably Kara's own fault for not being clear in the first place. Still, consent is key and Kara won't feel confident that Lena has given hers until Kara makes sure that Lena knows exactly what Kara is trying to say.

Kara takes a deep, steadying breath, types five different versions of the same reply before she eventually gives up and decides that she'll only make it worse if she keeps trying, sends it off the way it is and hopes for the best.

 _Just so there's no confusion, I'm asking if you'd still like to be my submissive? Would you still like to be mine, Lee?_

Kara twitches her foot in anxious agitation, knows that the choice is Lena's and she can take her time in making it, if she likes. Kara hopes it's a favorable choice, though, because Kara's spent all day imagining Lena kneeling at the foot of her bed, pretty raven hair pulled into a tight ponytail with a collar at her neck and a plea for Kara's touch right on the tip of her tongue, and Kara doesn't know how she'll ever look Lena in the eye again if the Luthor decides that's not a reality Kara will ever be fortunate enough to create for herself.

The pizza arrives while Kara waits. She pays the man distractedly, tips far too generously and doesn't even care, practically scrambles back to the couch and her phone and holds her breath as she opens Lena's reply.

 _If you'll have me, Kara Danvers._

And, oh yes, Kara will. Kara wants to have her now, wants to have Lena spread out just for her, wants to know the sounds that Lena will make when she comes apart under Kara's fingers, or her mouth. Kara wants to have Lena so many ways, wants to show Lena how she is _treasured_ , show her that Kara can give her everything that Lena's never been able to have.

 _I'd love to have you, Lena,_ Kara types, and adds a winky face for good measure. _But I need you to do something for me, a little bit like homework. Are you ready?_

 _God, yes._

Lena's response is instantaneous, and Kara wonders if she's blushing, wonders if Lena is at home on her couch with a glass of wine in hand, or if she's still at the office, shuffling in her chair and trying not to breathe too hard. Kara could listen for her, she knows, could search the city for Lena's heartbeat and find her if she wanted, but Kara likes the heat that festers in her stomach at the possibilities and doesn't want to ruin it, so Kara doesn't.

 _Can you make a couple of lists for me? I'd like one that has five things you know you enjoy in bed, and I'd like another one that has the top five things you want to try. I also need a list of at least basic No-Nos. I know we're exploring things for now, Lena, but I need to make sure I don't cross any hard limits in the meantime. Can you do that for me?_

Kara beams, flattered and pleased, when Lena's only answer is, _I'm truthfully struggling to come up with something I wouldn't be willing to do for you, right now.  
_

* * *

Kara knows that she's asking Lena to expose a lot of herself with these lists, knows that it's necessary and important but also nerve-wracking, probably even embarrassing for Lena, and Kara wants to be fair. She doesn't want to ask more of Lena than Kara is willing to give back to her, wants to return the trust that Lena is offering, so Kara dedicates her Sunday morning to making a few lists of her own.

It gets complicated, though, makes Kara confused, because there are some things Kara would like very much to do to Lena – tie her up, for starters, keep her still and a little bit helpless while Kara drags the pleasure from Lena's sobbing lips and makes her come until the Luthor can't breathe – but there are other things, things Kara might like having done _to_ her, might like _Cat_ to do to her, if she could ever be so lucky.

Kara ends up making separate lists for things she'd like to try with Lena, and things Kara can only dream of trying with Cat. It's ridiculous, Kara knows, she'll likely never have that opportunity with Cat and Kara is mostly resigned to that, if a little bitter, but it's important for Kara to explore this fully, important for her to know what _she_ needs and wants, just for herself. Self-awareness and self-exploration never hurt anyone, Kara reasons privately.

Still, with Cat warring for attention in Kara's already-overloaded mind, Kara fires off a text to offer her Wednesday evening to the former CEO, makes plans for dinner like she and Cat had agreed, because that's all Kara can do about her former employer, right now. Kara finishes her lists, and spends a lazy day in her pajamas trying her very hardest to ignore the tension clawing through her muscles, settling in a pool of heat at Kara's core.

She's called away for a Supergirl emergency ten minutes after she crawls into bed, briefly considers talking to Alex about Lena when she's done but nixes it in favor of a good night's rest and another day or two of finding the right words. Instead, Kara says goodnight to her sister and stares for hours at her bedroom ceiling doing her best not to touch herself because Kara knows how much better it will be when Lena does it for her.


	7. Chapter Six: Honest Communication

_Author's Note:_ This is a big chapter for Kara. Let me know how I did with it, please. I really struggled with this one, and had to rewrite it twice, so I hope it flows alright to you guys.

* * *

On Monday morning, Kara gnaws anxiously into her lower lip and gathers as much courage as she can, fires off a text to Alex and tells her that they need to talk.

Kara knows this isn't going to go well, knows her sister will viciously protest Kara's plan to expose Supergirl to Lena Luthor, but Kara doesn't want to put it off any longer. Lena deserves to know what she's getting herself into, deserves to know who she's invested so much of her trust in, who she's getting into bed with. Kara can't move forward with Lena until this secret no longer stands between them, knows that would be wrong and wildly unfair of Kara to do to her, so she texts Alex in the morning to prevent herself from stalling for another day.

Alex is worried, Kara knows, that's what Alex does, but the superhero promises her sister that everything is fine and makes plans to get together in the evening, agrees to pick up dinner on her way home and meet Alex at Kara's loft. The Kryptonian promptly busies herself with work, makes some serious progress on her newest assignment, frowns several hours later when she realizes that five o'clock has crept up on her more quickly than Kara would like.

She takes a deep breath and packs away her things, closes the door to her office and takes the elevator down to the lobby. Kara puts in a call to her favorite Chinese restaurant, lists off a long, familiar order and throws in a couple items for Alex, too, even though Kara's pretty sure that her sister's appetite will soon be lost to a fit of rage and overprotectiveness.

The short walk home is even faster than usual, the reporter is convinced, but by the time she arrives, Kara's resigned herself to the fact that this entire night is going to be a disaster, decides that she just needs to buckle up and ride it out.

Alex is already inside, has anxiously tucked herself into the couch with napkins set up on the coffee table and a glass of whiskey in hand. Kara sets the food down and takes her time unpacking it from the bag, tries her best to sort out her nervous energy, tries to find the right words and put them in some sort of comprehensible order.

Her sister is impatient, though, fit to burst with bristling agitation, and the second the last of the take-out boxes have landed on the table, Alex demands, "Okay, what's up, Kara? This whole mystery thing might be fun for you, but I've been a wreck all day, so spill. You're okay, right?"

"I told you I'm fine, Alex," Kara reassures and smiles just a little, feels it slip away with a soft huff of a sigh, but soldiers forward, despite it. "I just- I needed to tell you something, that's all."

"Well, what is it?" Alex tosses her palms up in frustration and leans forward on the couch, focuses all of her attention on Kara and doesn't even blink.

Kara closes her eyes and reminds herself to breathe, reminds herself that no matter how angry Alex might become, Kara needs to do this. She needs to do this for herself, for _Lena,_ and for Alex, too, even if her sister won't see it that way, at first.

"I'm going to tell Lena," Kara asserts as she opens her eyes, colors her words with a touch of Supergirl's confidence, her strength, and just to make sure that she's being clear, Kara explains a little further. "I'm going to tell her who I am, _what_ I am. I'm going to tell her where I come from, that I'm an alien, and I'd- I'd really like it if you could get behind me on this, Alex, but if you can't, I hope you can at least appreciate that I'm keeping you informed."

Alex blinks, twice, then breaks the silence between them with a harsh laugh, cold and damning, incredulous. Kara cringes at the noise but holds her ground, squares her shoulders like she's preparing for battle and waits for Alex to move past her knee-jerk reaction.

"You can't be serious," Alex deadpans a moment later, expression rapidly twisting into one of fury when Kara nods her solemn confirmation. "She's a fucking _Luthor,_ "Alex hisses between clenched teeth and jolts to her feet, takes Kara's shoulders in a grip tight enough that it would likely hurt another human, but Kara doesn't react. "Do you have any idea what she could do to you? With all the alien crap Lex collected, all the things he engineered to take down Clark, do you really think that Lena didn't inherit at least a dozen different ways to kill you? Telling Lena Luthor that you're Supergirl is fucking _suicide,_ Kara!"

" _Enough,"_ Kara snarls firmly, rustles her shoulders until Alex's palms fall away, the DEO agent's face falling briefly into one of shock at Kara's volume, her authoritatively brisk tone, but Kara can't help it.

Lena is more than what Alex has painted her as, more than the sum of her family's sins, more than the name that she carries with her. Lena is precious, beautiful and kind, brilliant and so wonderfully gifted. The youngest Luthor makes Kara smile, fills her heart with warmth, with tenderness and sweet, overwhelming affection, even on the days when Kara thinks it's too painful to walk into her own office knowing that Cat Grant won't be in the building to greet her.

Kara knows Lena, and yes, Lena has the talent, the resources, and the knowledge to kill Supergirl, she certainly _could,_ but Lena would never. She isn't a killer, she isn't a villain, she's just a girl, strong and hopeful, trying to change the world and give it something good, make it a better place where the rest of her family sought only to ruin it.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Alex," Kara tells her with a disappointed shake of her head. "Lena is nothing like Lex, not like the part of him that wanted to destroy. I thought you were going to give her a chance," Kara frowns, hard and angry, lets her voice build with emotion and offense as she lets her speech run on. "I thought that's what you were doing at game night, trying to see that Lena is her own person, not just the heir to the Luthor reputation. She isn't dangerous, and she's so much more than you think, more than the city wants to see in her. I thought that _you,_ of all people, would make your own judgment of her, not let other people make one for you, but if you think for a second that you're going to twist _my_ opinion of her, Alex, you're wrong," Kara stands taller, grows louder and more adamant with every word, sees Alex watching her with surprise and caution as Kara's fingers furl into fists, but does nothing to soothe her sister's worry, because Kara is livid and has every right to be.

"This conversation was a courtesy extended out of respect – for you, and for the DEO – but don't mistake that generosity as a request for your permission, Alex, because I don't need it," Kara growls and takes a heavy step in her sister's direction, visibly promising that she will not back down on this. "This isn't your secret, it isn't your life, and no matter how protective you are, you can't tell me how to live mine. _I_ trust Lena, completely and without question, and that's just going to have to be enough for you."

* * *

Alex doesn't stay, and Kara wouldn't have let her if she'd tried. She doesn't have the patience to explain her choice any further, knows Alex wouldn't hear it, anyway, knows Alex has made up her mind and has stubbornly decided that Kara is being foolish, and naïve.

The superhero eyes the full cartons of Chinese food and the abandoned glass of whiskey with a groan, makes an impulsive decision, focuses her hearing and finds the heartbeat she's searching for. Kara stacks all the food containers back in the bag they came from, carries it out the front door and makes her way toward Lena's office. She hides from the cameras in the elevator and uses her heat vision to rewarm the food on her way up, waves at Jess and drops a pint of egg drop soup on the assistant's desk with a weak smile and a softly murmured, "Don't work too hard."

The Kryptonian taps her fingers against the door to Lena's office, mostly to keep from frightening her, but doesn't wait for the Luthor to reply before walking through, just flashes her x-ray vision briefly to make sure that Lena's alone.

"Kara!" Lena beams reflexively at her entrance, and Kara's heart feels warmed already.

"Hi," Kara sighs her relief, relaxes her shoulders just a little, feels a fraction of the tension ebb away at Lena's presence. "I picked up dinner for me and Alex, but- we sort of got into an argument, and I thought maybe you might be hungry. I'm sorry I didn't think to call. Are you busy?"

"Not at all," Lena assures, rounds the edge of her desk with a frown and tentatively reaches her palm out to Kara's wrist, glancing upward to make sure that the touch is welcome. Kara smiles, soft and small, tiredly nods her approval as she shuffles closer, tucks her nose into Lena's raven hair and breathes her in all over again.

 _Daisies and honey suckles._

"Kara, are you alright?" Lena worries earnestly, strokes soothingly along Kara's forearm and tilts pretty blue-green eyes to meet with Kara's own.

The superhero nods, realizes it's a lie, even if it's an unintended one, so follows it with a shrug and an honest reply, "No, but I'd like to tell you about it somewhere more private, if that's okay?"

"Of course," Lena nods, shifts backward a single step and nods her head toward her desk. "I was just getting ready to leave. Would you like to move this discussion to my apartment?"

Kara isn't sure that Lena was actually getting ready to leave at all, but she isn't going to complain. It's around seven o'clock now, a reasonable enough hour for Lena to leave the office, and Kara has made every preparation she can make; she's ready to tell Lena, she _wants_ to tell her, and Kara doesn't want to hide from her anymore.

"That- that sounds perfect, Lena. Thank you."

* * *

Lena's driver picks them up from the lobby entrance, but Kara waves him off when he tries to open the door, does it herself and smiles when Lena flushes beautifully at the attention Kara spares for her.

The Luthor repays it in kind, inches close against Kara's side once seated in the car and holds onto Kara's hand with her own, kneads slender fingers into the reporter's free palm when Kara stares out the window in deep contemplation with a frown striking the corners of her mouth, the take-out bag secure in her lap. Kara doesn't mean to make Lena anxious, can hear the woman's heart pulsing a couple of beats too quickly, but she doesn't have a way to stop it, doesn't have a way to reassure Lena when Kara can't calm herself.

Kara is trying to stay positive, trying to be hopeful, but her conversation with Alex has put Kara in a dark place, and the unavoidable truth is that Lena might not want this, might not want Kara, might not want to _be_ Kara's once Lena learns her secret. Kara is afraid, she doesn't want to lose Lena before she's even fully gotten to have her, doesn't want to suffer another loss and isn't sure if she could bear it, but it's a risk Kara knows she needs to take, for Lena's sake and for her own.

The drive doesn't take long, and Lena holds Kara's hand for the duration but doesn't speak, doesn't pressure Kara to, either, not before she's ready. Kara is grateful, loves that Lena is willing to support her and be there for her, even when Lena doesn't know what's bothering her.

The youngest Luthor relinquishes Kara's palm when they arrive, but stays close as they enter the building, shoulders almost constantly in contact. Kara isn't sure if that's for her benefit or Lena's, but she appreciates the warmth and comfort in the touch, regardless, and softly nudges her arm into Lena's in silent acknowledgment of the effort.

The CEO greets the doorman with a wave, fishes a key card out from her purse and waves it at the electronic box by the elevator until it flashes green. When they step inside, Lena presses the 'P' button for the penthouse, and Kara smiles vaguely, remembers how Cat's building had shared similar security and how Kara had been the only other person in the world to possess a key, aside from Carter.

Kara wishes she could speak to Cat, wishes she could talk this through with her and get some sorely needed advice, but even if Kara feels sure that Cat knows about her Supersecret, the fact that Kara is willing to share it with someone else before fessing up to Cat is no way for Kara to confirm the older woman's suspicions. Kara likes to think she's not that stupid.

The reporter lifts her brows, impressed, when Lena has to scan both her thumb print and her retinas to unlock the door to her home, but Kara isn't exactly surprised. Lena is a tech savant, and new threats against the Luthor heir arise daily. Kara feels reassured by the added security, feels content with the knowledge that Lena is safe in her own home, safe when she goes to sleep at night.

"Where can I set the food?" Kara asks when Lena snaps her fingers to turn on the lights, and the reporter gazes curiously around the mostly-open space.

Lena's apartment is much like her office, lots of white and lots of glass, cut through by hard steel lines to create an architectural dream. There are a few baubles scattered around the shelves – artistic statues that Kara's never really gotten the hang of interpreting, several awards that clearly wouldn't fit within the limited space of Lena's office – but the most notably personal item in Lena's home is a large painting featuring Lena and her brother.

It's one of those posed paintings often commissioned by wealthy families, but in this one, Lena's adoration for Lex shines brightly through their linked fingers over the arm of the elder Luthor's plush chair as she stands at his side, and Lex's apparent love for Lena lines the edges of his nearly-smiling mouth. It's enlightening to see Lex this way, to be privileged enough to view him, just for a moment, the way that Lena had once seen him, and Kara knows, by this painting alone, that Lena's home is a very private, very protected space.

She knows it must have taken courage for Lena to invite her here, courage and a lot of care, and Kara nods to herself once, nods because she knows that she is making the right choice in sharing all of herself with Lena, the way that Lena is sharing all of herself with Kara.

"The table or the island counter is fine," Lena replies with a noticeable tremor of nerves, and – _oh_ – Kara's stared at the painting for too long, she's made Lena feel self-conscious, and Kara needs to fix that.

"Your home is beautiful, Lena," Kara tells her as she shuffles her way into the kitchen, lowers the bag of food to the counter as directed. "I like the painting, too. You and Lex– you can tell how much you cared for each other. It's nice to see him that way. I don't imagine many people get the chance."

Lena eyes her strangely for a moment, laughs out a disbelieving noise and shrugs when Kara tilts her head in confusion. "Most people wouldn't react that way. I think any perceived affection for my brother would only make them warier of my intentions with L-Corp. You, Kara Danvers, are not like most people," Lena says, voice thick with awe and adoration.

And there it is, the perfect opening for Kara's reveal, so the superhero swallows thickly and meets Lena's bright blue-green eyes with her own, whispers earnestly, "No, Lena. I'm really not. There's actually– Well, there's something I need to tell you," Kara wrings her hands together and frowns, glances downward to gather her nerve and startles a little when Lena steps forward to take Kara's fidgeting palms between her fingers.

"Kara?" Lena frowns, bemusement marring the furrow of her brow, concern clouding the color of her eyes.

"You really mean a lot to me, Lena," Kara tells her on a trembling sigh, sincere, but still so deeply afraid. "I don't want to lose you, but I can't- I can't do… whatever it is that you and I are trying to do together when I feel like I'm not being honest with you. I told you before that I don't want to take from you more than I'm willing to give back in return, and if you're going to trust me as much as you're willing to, then I need to give that trust back to you."

"Kara, darling, what is it?" Lena asks, a little bit of panic seeping into her words as she scours Kara's face for clues.

"I'm getting there," Kara promises. "I'll get to it in a second, Lena, but please… just remember that I'm still- I'm still _me,_ okay? I still care about you just as much as I always have, I still- I still want you to be mine and I'm genuinely not sure what I would do without you, at this point. I just– please, Lena, I just need you to remember that, okay?"

"Kara, you're starting to scare me a bit," Lena laughs awkwardly and tightens her hold over Kara's hands. "Look, I promise, I know who you are, alright? I won't forget," she vows devotedly, lifts Kara's fingers to her mouth and presses her lips into the reporter's knuckles. "I promise, Kara."

Kara swallows, lowers her head as she draws in a long, heavy breath in a failed attempt to calm herself, gently pulls her hands away from the youngest Luthor's and lifts one of them toward her face, gripping over the lead frame of her glasses so tightly that Kara has to invest effort into making sure that she doesn't break them.

Lena sucks in a sharp gasp through her teeth when Kara raises her head again, and the Kryptonian bites her lower lip, trembles aggressively in horror when Lena takes a step backward, takes a step away from Kara.

"I – How can you–?"

She's not making full sentences, and Kara isn't sure what Lena is trying to say, can't even detect a singular emotion through Lena's shocked reply. The superhero shifts her weight over her hips, bravely spreads her palms out in front of her, and Kara hopes with all the heart of a girl who once lost an entire world that Lena will place her own within them.

Lena's eyes clear a little as she stares at Kara's palms, begin to water as she flicks her gaze to Kara's doubtlessly fearful expression, and the youngest Luthor pushes two words – just two – out from her waterlogged throat.

" _Oh, Kara_ _…"_


	8. Chapter Seven: Suspended in Time

Kara quivers all over and doesn't blink, watches Lena with a complicated fusion of wistfulness and fear in her eyes and waits for a more coherent reaction. The corners of her vision are charring rapidly, burning black around the edges because Kara can't even breathe, but she does her best to be patient, to give Lena a moment to process, a little bit of time to understand what Kara is revealing to her.

The Kryptonian feels on the verge of losing consciousness, feels like her powers might blow out because her heart is trampling faster than it has during any battle Supergirl has fought in recent memory. Kara's knees are weak like the legs of a baby deer, it seems like all of the neurons in her brain have simultaneously stopped communicating, and the absolute truth is that for all of Kara's strength, all of her superhuman gifts and abilities, the cold familiarity of rejection and the sharp, creeping ache of abandonment are still practically as dangerous to Kara as kryptonite. She's experienced too much, has _lost_ too much, and Kara doesn't know what she'll do if she loses Lena, too, but she knows that it would destroy her.

Kara's quaking palms are still extended, still stretching toward Lena with the swiftly-dying hope that the youngest Luthor might reach out for them, might accept Kara's truth and care for her in all the same ways despite it. Lena's silence is daunting, though, her expression ambiguously blank, and suddenly Kara can't stand it, can't weather it for a single moment longer, hears her own voice rasp, unexpected and desperate, through a heartfelt, dire plea.

"Lena," she croaks tearfully. " _Say something,_ " Kara begs, mindless and terrified, hardly aware of the words blistering past her lips. "Say anything, Lena, _please._ "

The reply she gets is not what Kara expects, is the complete and utter opposite of what Kara wants to hear, but Lena's response is immediate and determined – stubborn, even – and Kara cringes violently when she hears it, feels her arms drop like lead to fall against her sides, helpless and pathetic.

"You've made a mistake," Lena tells her, abruptly cold and nearly professional, like she's tackling some errant member of the board or speaking with her _mother,_ for Rao's sake, and Kara feels the first tear crawl from the corner of her eye, knows it won't be the last no matter how much dignity she tries to scrap together under the harsh aloofness of Lena's cool exterior.

The CEO's pretty blue-green eyes are brusquely guarded, emotionless and steady, her shoulders set so stiffly that Kara thinks a gentle brush of wind could shatter their delicate framework to pieces. The chill in the air is new, for Kara, it's something she's never felt, not like this, certainly not with Lena. Frankly, it's so numbingly dissimilar, so inherently contradictory to the typical warmth and softness Kara has learned to expect in the Luthor's company that, for a moment, Kara feels like she's looking at a stranger.

But that isn't true.

The truth is that Lena is looking at _Kara_ like she's a stranger. Lena is looking at Kara like they've never even met, like she doesn't remember several weeks of lunches and brunches and unnecessary visits to each other's offices just to glimpse a little smile and steal a long, sweet hug to help them through the day. Lena is looking at Kara like she doesn't recognize her, like she doesn't want anything to do with her, and it hurts, it burns, it stings and stabs and it _aches_ , and it makes Kara's heart thrash, makes her powers feel entirely out of her control, and Kara doesn't know how she even manages to form words.

"I– What?" Kara stutters in her confusion, furrows her brow because she doesn't understand what Lena is saying, can't fathom what Lena could possibly even mean by that, but knows by Lena's posture and tone alone that the CEO is distancing herself, pushing Kara as far away emotionally as Lena knows how, and as a Luthor, she's had a lot of practice.

"You forget who I _am,_ " Lena practically spits at her. "Perhaps I let you get too comfortable, perhaps I've allowed us to grow too close," the CEO all but sneers, takes a prowling, predatory step closer to Kara that makes the alien take offense and quickly falter backward.

And the real truth, Kara realizes rapidly, is that she really _doesn't_ know Lena. At least, not _this_ Lena.

Kara knows shy Lena, knows sweet, tentative, nervous Lena, knows the version of Lena who yearns for affection, who craves intimacy in the same way that Kara does. Kara knows a Lena who is generous, and kind, knows a version of Lena who is scarred and starved for positive attention, knows a Lena who looks at Kara with awe and wonder, with charmed pleasure in her smile and constellations burning luminescence in her eyes.

Kara knows _of_ this Lena, knows that Lena has spent many years cultivating a sharp, impassable shield to help her show the world that she is strong, that she is capable and bright. Kara knows of the Lena who is direct, who can freeze a man in his tracks not with her breath, like Kara, but with her science, her sheer intelligence, her cunning. Kara has always admired those qualities in theory, has always revered Lena's strength of mind and ability to read and master a room in seconds, but having them directed _at her_ is something else entirely.

"Perhaps it's my fault," Lena muses frostily, still approaching, still working her hardest to corner Kara against the wall of her kitchen, "but the fact remains, _Supergirl,_ " Lena whispers the name Cat had given to her with venom, painful and hot, "that you forget who I _am._ You forget my name _,_ my family,my background _._ You must have forgotten," Lena declares with surety, with icy, bleak definitiveness, "because no Super would ever trust a Luthor with a secret like this knowingly. That would be far too _stupid,_ " Lena declares with a soft growl, a rumble in her throat that Kara's supserpowered ears translate as genuine hatred.

It hurts Kara all over, makes her yearn and shudder everywhere, except– Kara thinks she understands now.

Kara understands how this presentation of Lena and the one who she is so familiar with are the same, understands what Lena really means to say and why she's reacting so forcefully, so aggressively. Kara thinks she understands how to talk to her, how to show Lena that she is wrong, that Kara is even more justified in sharing her secret with Lena than Kara had realized.

The superhero shakes her head, stands taller and meets Lena's eyes with her own, even if Kara is still crying and can't seem to make it stop.

"I didn't make a mistake," she declares firmly, confidence clear but voice still trembling with horror and hurt, and Kara steps into the now-startled CEO's space, just close enough to alter the power of her position. "I know who you are, Lena. I _see you,_ " Kara insists, painfully earnest and clear. She is hopeful, pleading, even, but Kara's never been so sure of anything in her life, and if it takes dropping to her knees and begging Lena to stay, then that's what Kara will do. "I see your heart, your mind, I see everything that you are, every soft, precious thing about you. I know who you are, I feel it. I _see you,_ Lena," Kara swears again, swallows hard and shakes her head, moves closer into Lena and bites her lip. "I see you," she repeats, just one last time to make sure that Lena hears it, and when Lena's look remains the same, Kara tries the last thing she can think to do. "I just- Lena, I just need for you to see _me,_ " Kara chokes, winded and hurt, eyes ducking left with shame and pain and fear.

An endless roar of silence blares in the inch of space between them, and Kara can't think, can't move a single limb through the sudden paralysis that strikes her. The Kryptonian's heart is breaking, searing and drowning in Kara's anguish all at once, because as honest as Kara's words had been, she's still not sure that they're enough.

"Kara, what is _wrong_ with you?" Lena breaks suddenly and sounds hoarse, sounds broken and pained the way that Kara feels. "How can you–" Lena huffs in frustration and grabs at Kara with frantic palms, fingers fisting in the collar of Kara's shirt, forcefully dragging her into the tightest human hug Kara thinks she's ever received.

Kara cries some more because of the relief that crashes into her, cries because she could have _lost this,_ could have lost _Lena,_ had been so close to never scenting the honeysuckle-daisy sweetness of Lena's perfume again. The conversation is a whirlwind, Kara is so confused, but Lena is holding her, seeking out Kara's touch without even waiting for Kara's permission the way that the Luthor has always done, and she sounds as vulnerable as Kara feels.

"How could you ever trust me with this?" Lena marvels finally, breathy and astonished, the heat of her words whispered into Kara's throat. "Despite everything my family has done to hurt you, to hurt your cousin… Kara, how could you ever–" Lena pulls back to look at Kara as she chokes on her words, covers the lines of her mouth with shaking fingers, helplessly shuffles a step backward with shame, but Kara tightens her hold swiftly against Lena's hips to reel her back in.

The superhero shakes her head, smiles wetly but tenderly because Kara understands, knows that Lena isn't doubtful of Kara or her intentions, Lena just doesn't trust herself the way that Kara trusts her, can't fathom why Kara would ever share this with her. Lena doesn't understand how Kara could have enough faith in Lena to be so open, to reveal her secret and believe that Lena will keep it, and Kara has so many reasons for that but only one that Lena might accept.

"Your family is not _you,_ " the superhero insists quietly. "I know you struggle with what they've done, with the debt you feel you owe to the world because of them, and I know it's hard for you to believe that someone could ever genuinely look past that, but I made a choice, Lena," Kara tries to explain, sighs deeply when it takes a little more time than she'd like to plan her next words articulately.

Lena absently slackens against her, stops resisting the alien's gentle pull at her waist as she looks up at Kara, eyes wide and searching. The youngest Luthor is trembling, emotional and deeply insecure, and Kara wants it to stop, wants to comfort Lena and cradle her until the CEO feels safe again, until Lena falls apart in Kara's arms.

"I made a choice when we met, and I chose to be your friend, to trust you and to believe in you, and you've never disappointed me, Lena. I've never once regretted that choice, even for a second," Kara promises softly, lifts her hand and sweeps a lock of dark hair behind Lena's ear, cradling the Luthor's chin in her palm. "And then I made a choice to build something bigger with you, something better, and it isn't fair to either one of us to start a relationship like that if you don't- if you don't know who I _am,_ Lena.

"You're trusting me to keep you safe. You're trusting me to keep you healthy, to keep you happy and to protect you, and I want– Lena, I want that so badly. I want to do that for you, to be the person you can rely on to give you everything you need," Kara whispers, tips her head and scrapes her mouth against Lena's flushed cheek, "and part of what you need is a partner who will never lie to you, even by omission.

"So," Kara murmurs into the soft skin of Lena's forehead, strokes her thumb along the line of the Luthor's jaw, "the truth is that I can break you, Lena. I can snap you in half completely by accident, if I'm not careful. The truth is that I can catch bullets in my hand and shoot lasers from my eyes, freeze rivers with my breath, and fly fast enough to break the sound barrier," Kara tells her earnestly, sweetly clears an awed tear from Lena's cheek with a slow sweep of her tongue. "But the biggest truth is that I care about you, Lena, I trust you implicitly, and this – what we have together – is something I'm not sure I could ever bear to lose. Please, don't hide from me. Don't run. _Stay with me,_ Lena."

"You perfect, beautiful alien," Lena laughs, quiet and reassured, but disbelieving, nevertheless, fingers toying coyly with the cuff of Kara's sleeve. "How could I ever leave?"

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ Sorry it took so long! It was a difficult scene for me to write.


	9. Chapter Eight: Fraying Edges

Lena asks Kara to stay the night.

The youngest Luthor calls her an alien, calls Kara perfect and beautiful and wonders how she could ever choose not to be at her side, and Kara immediately considers a hundred different ways Lena might have chosen to send her away, plus a thousand reasons why Lena might have wanted to. The question is rhetorical, though, Kara isn't expected to answer, she knows, so Kara doesn't. Instead, the superhero revels in the knowledge that what Lena actually means is she still wants this, still wants Kara, would maybe even still like to _be_ Kara's, despite everything the Kryptonian has revealed about herself and the long-standing animosity between Lena's family and the high House of El.

None of that matters to Kara, none of it has ever mattered to her, not since they'd first met, but Kara is relieved beyond reason that Lena appears to feel the same. Kara had risked everything tonight, everything exquisite and perfect that she and Lena have begun to create together, and even more, Kara had risked the very real potentiality of Supergirl's public exposure based on nothing but her unfailing trust in the quality of Lena Luthor's heart.

Kara is acutely aware of how differently this could have ended for her, of how she could have lost Lena completely, today - forever - and the superhero had come far closer to that reality than she can bear to think about. Kara's heart feels raw, frosted over by the chill that had only so recently been chased from Lena's tone, frayed by the sharp, ghosting taunts of demons Kara's struggled to stave off since the night she'd first left Krypton, the night she'd watched her planet burn, the night that she'd lost everyone she'd ever loved and every place she'd once called home.

The truth is that Kara feels fragile, feels weak and needy and even a little bit clingy, and as strong as Kara might be, she thinks she is only moments away from collapsing onto Lena's floor in an exhausted heap of broken emotion. Kara is doing her best to ignore it, working to breathe through the overwhelming intensity of all that she is feeling in favor of tending to Lena's needs, instead, because Lena is fragile, too, the youngest Luthor's insecurities still so fresh at the surface, and Kara thinks it's her job to ease them.

She wants to settle the lingering self-hared that prevents Lena's pretty blue-green eyes from meeting with Kara's own, wants to press her lips to the pads of Lena's fingertips until the tremor in them fades to a forgotten memory. Kara wants to comfort Lena in every way that she knows how and draw comfort from Lena in turn, wants to prove to the youngest Luthor that Kara had meant every word she'd pleaded for Lena to hear earlier on in the night. Kara wants to hold her, wants to blanket every inch of herself over Lena's curves and heat and show her, let the CEO of L-Corp feel the immensity of Kara's affection for her as the superhero's fingertips stroke electric charges across every stretch of pale, delicate skin she can find, so when Lena whispers into Kara's throat that she'd like for her to stay, it's all Kara can do to keep from weeping out her gratitude.

"Yes," Kara mutters, lips grazing Lena's forehead as she sighs, weary but sure. "I'd love to, Lena," Kara tells her, words gravelly and hoarse, palms shifting to tug gentle fingers through dark, glossy hair. "Thank you."

Lena laughs her quiet, waterlogged relief, eyes fleetingly resting to a close. The Luthor shakes her head, offers Kara a tiny grimace of a smile with a kind of guilt lurking at its edges that makes Kara's head slope leftward in confusion.

"I'm not sure your appreciation is necessary, Kara - and, frankly, it's completely misplaced. If spending the night offers you any sense of pleasure, then I truly am glad for it, but the request was as selfish as they come," Lena confesses, earnest but troubled, blue-green irises darting toward Kara's chest, where slim, lightly questing digits stroke absently over the reporter's heart. "It's been a very long time since I last met someone who mattered to me, and never anyone outside of my own family who mattered enough that I wanted to _please_ , but you- _Kara,"_ Lena rasps, tracks her tongue over her bottom lip and stalls, resumes again with tears hot in her eyes when they finally, tentatively, move to find Kara's blue. "You are like no one I've ever known. I've never- I've never wanted to drown myself in another person the way that I want to do with you, I'd never understood what that meant.

"It's frightening," Lena tells her honestly, cinches her fingers into a fist around the cloth of Kara's shirt as Lena moves in closer, tucks her head beneath Kara's chin, furls an arm around the Kryptonian's waist and presses her ear down firmly until Kara is convinced that Lena is listening for the pulse of Kara's heart.

Kara is happy to accommodate the touch, to pull Lena even further in, to feel more of her pressed into Kara's frame. She pushes her fingers to the base of Lena's skull and tucks her mouth into Lena's raven hair, slinks a palm down Lena's spine and flattens it against the small of her back, adds a little extra weight to prove that Kara is there, that she has no intention of leaving Lena tonight, or any other night if she can help it.

"The way that you look at me, the way that you see me…" Lena muses deeply, warm breath washing over Kara's collar, and Kara quakes but rests her eyes, focuses on Lena's touch and measures the strength of it to keep her own in check, to keep herself from folding Lena so closely into her that she breaks. "I'm an extremely public figure, Kara. I can't afford to be unaware of my image, so believe me when I tell you that I know I can be an extremely volatile person - but no one's ever leveled me the way that you're able to.

"There's not a thing I can think of in this world that I wouldn't be willing to offer you, Kara, not a single thing I wouldn't do, and we aren't- We haven't even-" Lena mewls in frustration, shakes her head as she tries to find the words, but Kara is patient, she can wait, she can wait for Lena to express herself however she feels she needs to, and in the meantime, Kara kneads her fingers into the tendons of Lena's neck in a calming effort to help relax her.

"We're not dating," the Luthor tries shakily. "Not really. We've talked about what we could be, Kara, but in the short time that we've known each other, I feel like you've somehow become the most important thing in my life and I haven't even been able to show you what you mean to me. And after the way I reacted tonight, I'm not sure that I deserve the chance," she admits loathingly, telling palms slowly beginning to fall away, to withdraw from Kara as Lena recognizes the perceived truth in her words, feels the deep shame of its impact as it overcomes her.

"No," Kara says firmly, holds steadfast onto Lena and refuses to allow her retreat.

Kara wants to be honest, wants to tell Lena the truth, but she needs Lena to understand that Kara had entered into this with no expectations, only an abundance of belief and faith and hope. She had come into the Luthor's apartment knowing that her secret could shake Lena's opinion of her entirely, she had known exactly what Lena could do with the information Kara had planned to present her with, and Kara had chosen to take the risk, anyway.

"It hurt," Kara starts carefully, murmurs it into the top of Lena's head and purposefully ignores the soft, remorseful whimper that catches in Lena's throat at the confession. "It hurt that you were so cold, that you could look at me like I was your enemy, like I'd done something unforgivable when all I wanted to do was tell you the truth, but, Lena, you're entitled to some time. It's not a small secret, you know," Kara tells her solemnly. "It's who I am, and I want you to accept me for that, and for everything that I can be, but please, don't for a second believe that I thought it would be an easy thing for you to process.

"Our families have clashed in catastrophic ways on more than one occasion, and as much as I know you hate your family, I also know that your affection for them runs almost as deep, at least in some ways," Kara sighs heavily and nods, because even if this is the last thing she wants to talk about, even if all she wants is to feed Lena the forgotten Chinese food on the counter and hold her close when they are done, Lena needs to hear this, _Kara_ needs Lena to hear this.

Kara has a responsibility to Lena, has a duty to take care of her whenever she is able, because that's what Kara agreed, that's what _they_ agreed when they decided to engage in this semi-unorthodox relationship, and until Lena tells Kara that she's no longer interested in upholding that agreement, Kara will do everything in her power to honor it.

"I was afraid," Kara shares on a vulnerable, trembling whisper. "I was terrified, Lena, because you've come to mean so much to me, and the thought that I might have lost you was way too tragic for me to imagine. At first, I thought- Just for a moment, I really believed that you- _Rao,_ Lena, I really thought you hated me," Kara tells her, lets the inevitable, forthcoming snivel break into her own shoulder in effort to keep Lena from hearing, but even Kara knows it fails when Lena reaches frantic, panicked palms to hold Kara's tear-ridden cheeks between her fingers. "I thought, for a moment, that you hated everything I am, everything about where I come from.

"But it was just _fear_ , Lena," Kara rallies impressively, clears her throat and throws a bit of Supergirl's strength into her words that Kara doesn't really feel, not yet, just to make sure that Lena hears it, knows that Kara had been hurt by a realm of possibilities that she had constructed within her own mind, a world that had never actually come to fruition.

"Even if you were cold, even if you were distant and felt eons away from anywhere I could reach you… Even then- Lena, _even then_ , you were trying to protect me, trying to prevent me from trusting you because you thought it was a mistake, but I knew better. I've always known better," Kara swears, pushes her thumb into the soft dip of flesh beneath Lena's ear until the youngest Luthor releases a drawn out, unexpected moan at her touch, and finally, _finally_ Kara feels the pull of a small, tender smile at her lips. "It's why I came to you tonight, why I knew that I could trust you, and whatever else happened tonight, Lena, I was _right._

"I was right to put my faith in you, and I was right to believe in you. So, yes, it hurt - and if I'm honest, I'm an alien, not a saint, so I'm not above letting you make it up to me," Kara jokes warmly, chuckles when she feels Lena's quiet, uncharacteristic giggle against her chest, "but you didn't do a single thing wrong, Lena. Please believe that."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ So... it's been a while? I'd like to say I'm sorry for the neglect, but neglect really isn't the issue. I've thought about this fic almost every day since I last posted, but writer's block hit me pretty hard on this one. No guarantees for the next update, but this is me, trying my best to find a way around the block. Let me know if it flows well with previous chapters, please - with particular attention to the style, if possible.


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